


Mini Muses

by Pi_in_the_Sky



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: And no anime, Anxiety Disorder, Blind Character, Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Except there's no beach, F/F, F/M, Fluff, For some chapters anyway, Grief/Mourning, Insecurity, Kidnapping, Let me dream, Love Confessions, Manipulation, One Shot Collection, Post-Canon, Rarepair, Someone just needs a hug, Sort Of, Swimming, The anime beach episode, Truth or Dare, twdgdrabblechallenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2020-05-12 17:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19233904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pi_in_the_Sky/pseuds/Pi_in_the_Sky
Summary: This is mostly a place for me to put the little brain explosions that don’t have enough substance to be more than a one shot. Also a spot for me to try to get my creativity kick-started when I’m in a bit of a mental rut. I'll update tags as I go.





	1. Info & Chapter Descriptions

I’ll update this chapter with the chapter specific descriptions as I go along or any other bit of info that becomes important. If you have a suggestion, let me know in the comments. No promises that I’ll do them, but if something catches my attention, who knows.

(Also, general disclaimer that I use Australian spelling and grammar rules – I’m sorry if this is inconsistent with what you’re used to)

 

\-----

 

**Summer Days**

Set after the The Final Season, the Ericson’s gang decide to take advantage of the quiet day by doing something purely for enjoyment. Forget survival, it’s time for the highly anticipated “Beach episode” of the series, sans the actual the beach.

Canon-compliant and follows a Clementine/Louis play through.

 

=====

 

**A Snare for Solace**

Set during the gap in episode 4 of The Final Season, the school is in shambles, and while the physical trauma is being dealt with some of the emotional drama has yet to be solved. Aasim has a moment of reflection and realises he needs some help healing too.

Canon-compliant, primarily about me trying to answer how Aasim/Ruby started in game. The fates of Violet/Louis/Tennessee are left ambiguous.

(contains several instances of bad language and topics involving loss and mourning)

 

=====

 

**Nock Nock**

Set a few weeks after the end of TFS, Clementine is trying to deal with the loss of her leg and her general ability to help around the school. AJ and Aasim attempt to brighten her mood with a little bit of arts and crafts.

This story takes some liberties with canon. Assume that the Aasim pining over Ruby in episode 2 either didn’t happen, or that Louis’ teasing was simply him trying to get under the other guy’s skin. Or let’s just pretend that we didn’t see the Ruby and Aasim handholding and food sharing segments at the end of episode 4. Follows the save Louis route with no in-game romance. Clementine/Aasim pairing (let me dream, ok?) 

(contains bad language and non-descriptive allusions to symptoms of depression)

 

=====

 

**Rules**

Takes place a few months after “The Ranch Incident” but prior to the start of The Final Season. AJ is still trying to learn the rules while travelling on the road with Clementine. Things aren’t perfect, and the weather doesn’t feel like making things easy for them. Mostly a low intensity exploration of Clementine from AJ’s perspective, because kids think weird– especially when their caregiver is trying to prepare them for surviving the apocalypse.

(This chapter is written using the November Drabble prompts provided by stop_breaking_my_heart_telltale on their Tumblr. It is a _very_ loose combination of prompts 1 through 6 since I suck at being concise and keeping to a drabble format, and I’m also a dingbat who has issues with being too subtle/blunt with prompts.)

Prompts = [Scar, Knife, “You make me laugh”, Gift, Nightmare, Sick in bed]

 

=====

 

**A Little Spark**

Set in Ericson’s Boarding school a few years before The Final Season’s timeline. A small, feathery guest interrupts an otherwise quiet night. Aasim’s night watch takes a turn for the unexpected when a certain girl offers to help him with the situation. An early catalyst for Aasim’s crush on Ruby, even if it’s completely one-sided.

(This chapter is written using the November Drabble prompts provided by stop_breaking_my_heart_telltale on their Tumblr. It is a loose combination of prompts 7 through 13.)

Prompts = [Hunting, Walkers, Dancing/Singing, Death, Escape, Unrequited love, Hug]

 

=====

 

**Finding Lighthouses**

Set several weeks after TFS’s conclusion. Not canon-compliant as Brody is pulling a Lazarus and is still perfectly fine in this story. Violet is trying to adjust to her vision impairment and struggling to get used to the all-encompassing darkness that stains her eyes. Maybe she just needs someone to shine a brighter light on things? Briolet because why not (can be viewed as platonic or romantic, go nuts).

(This chapter is written using the November Drabble prompts provided by stop_breaking_my_heart_telltale on their Tumblr. It is a loose combination of prompts 14 through 19.)

Prompts = [Night sky, Flowers, Notebook, “I’m sorry”, Thunderstorms, Helping hand]

 

=====

 

**A Different Path**

Canon-divergent AU that occurs after episode 2 of TFS. The Delta raids the school and Clem makes an unfortunate miscalculation. The Delta comes away with two captives; Aasim and Clementine. They wait on the boat for rescue, but nothing. Too late to be saved, the pair are stuck under the thumb of Lilly and the new “home” promised to them. Expect some light Clemsim that develops more as the story progresses.

It’s a bit of a beast, so it’s being separated into multiple chapters.  

Warning that this is heavier than the other stories in this collection; expect an exploration of how I think the Delta successfully ‘convert’ their prisoners.

(This chapter is written using the November Drabble prompts provided by stop_breaking_my_heart_telltale on their Tumblr. It is a loose combination of prompts 20 through 30.)

Prompts = [Too late, “I missed you”, Memories, Snowfall, “It’s not your fault”, Card game, “Oops”, Silence, Things left unsaid, Confession, Endings]


	2. Summer Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after the The Final Season, the Ericson’s gang decide to take advantage of the quiet day by doing something purely for enjoyment. Forget survival, it’s time for the highly anticipated “Beach episode” of the series, sans the actual the beach.  
> Canon-compliant and follows a Clementine/Louis play through.

The summer heat is thick in the air, and while the morning is pleasant enough, they all know that by midday it will be unbearably warm. Clementine has learned that these kids don’t cope well with heat stress.

Aasim is snappy, Omar doesn’t want to stand by the cooking fires, and Willy doesn’t stop running around with no shirt and asking the other kids to feel how sweaty he is. Which even AJ decided was gross, and he himself isn’t doing much better. He has come a long way in his ability to turn off the ‘safety switch’ in his head, letting him drop his constant guard when inside the school. But no matter how much Clem tries to convince the kid to take off his shirt, he refuses.

_Stubborn little Goofball._

Being outside at least lets them enjoy the occasional gust of wind, but every bit of shade is cramped with the kids lazily avoiding doing any work that might build up a sweat. Clem sits on one of the stone benches outside the dorms. AJ on one side of her, his hands pulling at the hem of his shirt in an attempt to catch the breeze. Louis is on her other side, busy fanning himself with his fanned-out deck of cards.  

So when Ruby proposes a trip to the river, the others kids are quick to jump on the idea.  

“Oh, hell yeah,” Louis is the first to stand. “You wanna go swimming, Little Man?”

“Uhh,” AJ mutters before looking at Clem. More specifically, catching her eyes first before looking down at the empty space below her left knee. “I don’t know.”

Clementine knows that expression, guilt. And the poor little guy doesn’t need to keep carrying that around when it’s not something he can change, or even something that she would call his fault. “It sounds like fun, doesn’t it AJ?”

The little boy’s face stutters for a moment, unsure of what the right response to that question is. “It does sound fun,” he admits but pouts lightly as he looks down at his lap, “but the river is _really_ far Clem. Is that really ok?”

Clementine looks over to Louis, indicating with her eyes to help with the situation. “Hey, don’t sweat it, AJ! We’ve got four legs between us, so we can make up for Clem’s one-and-a-half. You’ll give me a hand, right?”

“Do you want to go?” AJ asks, the faintest spark of excitement lighting up his eyes.

“Only if you want to go,” she smiles back and that little spark explodes into full blown anticipation. He springs off the bench as Louis helps Clem stand up and retrieves her crutches.

“You sure you’re ok with this?” Louis keeps his voice low to keep AJ from over-hearing. Though the little guy is busy chattering away with Ruby and Violet with way more energy than either of the girl’s looks capable of handling right now.

“I’ll manage,” she leans forward to press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. Even after all this time, the boy still grins like an idiot with the smallest hint of affection – and Clem won’t deny how much she loves that. “You’ve got my back right?”

“Of course.”

 

\-----

 

The trip to the river is the longest journey Clem has made outdoors since she lost her leg – and damn her stubbornness for not asking for a break on the way. She’s certain she’s going to have an awful rash from the shoulder supports on the crutches rubbing against her sweaty skin.

At least the walker issue has settled down in the past few weeks. Aasim and Willy had taken the initiative and set up noisemakers  in set points in the woods. Little wind chimes that drew in crowds, but that usually left the paths they normally trek alone. Every here and there they clear out the build-up, and the system seems to be working well.

Even though her old habits don’t die so quick, so she’s quite tense through the whole walk. Busy listening for any little branch snap while simultaneously trying not to trip over or catch her crutches on any of the ground litter.  

But actually reaching the river... well, she thinks it may be worth it.

Willy takes off as soon as the water is in sight, the shirt that Ruby managed to wrangle back onto him for the walk is quickly discarded in his sprint. Luckily for him, the sight of him bounding off the remains of the peer and disappearing into the water is amusing enough for Ruby to laugh. She expects there will be a lecture for the boy later about the dangers of sunburn. Not that he’s likely to listen.

“What’d he do?” Violet asks with a hint of amusement.

“The little shit doesn’t know how to wait,” Aasim answers as he picks up the thrown T-shirt. His words are harsh but there’s a smile on his face regardless. They all get it – they need the opportunity to run around and be childish. “Omar, wanna help me teach Willy what happens when he doesn’t listen to my girlfriend?”

And that’s all the invitation they all need to let loose.

Aasim and Omar diving into the water – the former doing his best attempt at a swimmer’s dive, while the latter does his best bomb dive possible – and launching a splash attack on Willy. Ruby takes Violet’s hand and leads her into the water, sticking close to the pier so that the vision impaired girl has something to anchor on to.

“Can I go play, Clem?” AJ asks enthusiastically.

“If you stay with Louis, sure.” She does her best to smile at him, and thankfully the little boy is all too eager to overlook the strain that tries to show on her face. Louis, however, doesn’t miss it.

AJ drags Louis away eagerly, the older boy shooting a concerned look over his shoulder as Clem lowers herself to the grass. A sigh escapes her; she’s just happy to be off her feet... _foot._ The gentle breeze brushes her hair across her neck, and even without the water she can feel herself relax.

Laughter echoes around the riverbank – little AJ smiling and chuckling as Louis ducks his head underwater before grabbing and launching the boy out of the water and letting him land with a rolling splash that soaks the other kids. His fluffy hair bursting out of the river with even more giggles and splashes as he launches little waves at the closest target. She can even see Ruby and Violet laughing as the rippling waves roll across them.

It’s wonderful to see them like that. Uncaring about the noise or wet clothes or any of the chores that they are ignoring – today is an exception to all the normal rules.

Clem lets her eyes close. Just taking in the sounds of her friends and the occasional twitter of birds in the distance. She feels the tension leaving her with each breath, her shoulders relaxing and the throbbing in her arms dissipating as she lets the calming atmosphere take her.

The sloshing of water picks up again and she lets her eyes open to see a drenched Louis making his way over to her on the bank. His clothes and his hair cling to him as he steps up beside her, deliberately letting a few drops from his dreads fall onto her.

“You’re not coming in?” He asks while tilting his head to the side. “I know this was for AJ, but you don’t have to miss out.”

“I can’t, Lou. You know why,” she lifts her leg stump in emphasis. “I’d end up swimming in circles or sinking to the bottom of the river.”

 “No you won’t,” Louis lets out a light laugh, like the very notion is ridiculous. “Come on, Clem, do you think I’d ever let that happen? I already lost Chairles in this river. Losing my favourite weapon is one thing, losing my favourite fruit too? Never.”

If she’s being truthful, she would love to join the others – if Vi was ok going in with Ruby, then surely she’ll be ok with Louis. But she doesn’t like feeling vulnerable, even with Louis there to help her. Her silent contemplation seems to urge him into action; extending his hand out to her.

“Let me prove it,” he smiles sincerely. So much affection and trust radiating out of him like sunshine. He has been her support through all of this, always offering to carry her and love her in spite of the parts of her that are long gone. Every little thing to show her she wasn’t a burden, she wasn’t lesser just because she occasionally needed a hand. And his hand is always there when she needs it.

Tentatively, she accepts his help as he pulls her upright. “You promise it’ll be ok?” She wobbles lightly on her foot before Louis wraps an arm around her back to support her – ignoring the crutches since they’ll be useless in the water.

“Of course,” he says with determination.

It’s a slow walk to the river’s edge – but Louis doesn’t complain as she slowly hops along beside him. The water that laps at the shore is chilly on her toes, but in the most refreshing way. Like when she was little and her dad would load up her glasses of water with ice on summer days.

As the water reaches Clem’s chest, she’s just buoyant enough that Louis can let go of her back and move out in front of her. She smiles at the boy, but the mischievous grin that splits his features makes her stomach drop.

In the next second he disappears below the water, a stream of bubbles the only evidence that he was there at all. Then she can feel the water move around her and suddenly she finds herself being gripped by the waist and lifted out of the water.

“Louis!” she practically yelps as the boy sets her down on his shoulders, his hands gripping firmly just above her knees so she doesn’t topple. Though he’s trying hard to stifle his laughter, it spills out of him in a torrent.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats but he’s clearly lying. But frankly, Clem finds it hard to care. She’s in the water.

 _She’s with her friends and in the water._ An airy laugh follows the realization. Yeah, Louis can get away with this one.

AJ beams at her, waving frantically just before Willy sends a mighty splash over the little boy. The boys devolve back into their little game of splash wars.

“Come on, darling,” he manages to speak through his wide grin and boisterous laughter. Louis takes slow bouncing steps towards AJ and the others. “Looks like the little prince needs the king and queen as backup. We have a water war to win.”


	3. A Snare for Solace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during the gap in episode 4 of The Final Season, the school is in shambles, and while the physical trauma is being dealt with some of the emotional drama has yet to be solved. Aasim has a moment of reflection and realizes he needs some help healing too.  
> Canon-compliant, primarily about me trying to answer how Aasim/Ruby started in game. The fates of Violet/Louis/Tennessee are left ambiguous.

He couldn’t sleep. As much as he tries, Aasim’s eyes refuse to stay shut. Instead he just lies in his bed, watching the dust particles sparkle when they flitter into the filtered light shining through his window. At first it was just a few, softly glittering in pale moonlight; now it’s like a swarm of little fireflies in the sunrise.

Which meant two things. One, he really needs to clean his room – actually dusting and maybe even airing out his bedding. And two, he has been awake all night. He thought yesterday would be exhausting enough that he’d be able to just pass out. But apparently not even dealing with a nearly dead Clementine and inconsolable AJ was enough to let him sleep soundly.

Too scared of nightmares. Of his brain unravelling completely in his sleep. He doesn’t want to devote another page in his journal to his scattered thinking.

_Nothing to do about it now_. He forces himself upright, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes and pinching his brow to suppress the headache he feels building.

_It’s just another day_. He repeats the mantra, hoping that maybe it will be true this time – that maybe if he treats this like a normal morning, then it somehow will be. But as he dresses and exits his room he’s met with the cold stillness that reminds him that it really isn’t a normal day.

Only himself and Willy stayed in the dorms last night. Everyone else is stuck in the admin building – having wounds treated, or staying by the bedside of those who needed the support. Which only left Ruby, Willy, and himself to try to keep the school running with more broken gears than working pieces. And Ruby has her hands full already.

Aasim draws in a deep breath as he makes his way outside. He isn’t surprised to find the courtyard empty. Willy did manage to pass out through the night where Aasim had failed. Even if Aasim needs the boy’s help now more than ever – for company and the extra hands – he can’t bring himself to wake him up. He’ll wait for him to rouse on his own.

He beelines towards the opposite end of the courtyard, trying to ignore all the rubble that he still has to clean up. More things that can wait. There’s something more important on his mind at the moment. Something he should have done yesterday, but this is something he wants privacy for... Just in case he can’t handle it.

The grave markers shimmer in the morning light, little bits of dew giving the whole area an unreal quality. And that’s just how it all feels to him as he looks at all the names. _It can’t be real_. None of the deaths ever felt real. At the start he tried to think of it as if they just left – they got to be taken home at the end of semester. But he knows it’s a lie, nothing works like that anymore.

They didn’t go home, and the lack of their names in the graveyard didn’t make them any more alive. Their names still marked the back pages of every notebook he used – all dated as best as he could with the list of everyone left in the school. It used to be a full two-page spread, like a yearbook with signatures and little doodles. Back when they still struggled, but had enough childish spirit to play and prank in every spare moment.

Now it’s nothing more than a few lines, and just in the last month he has had to scribble out more. Yet one in particular is bothering him more than the others – one that still stays in the back page unmarked.

He shuffled his feet in front of Mitch’s grave. He had helped dig the others, had helped move their belongings or their... _bodies_ when they had them. But not for him. Mitch was just there and gone – and he can’t help the slight welling in his eyes. He feels like he missed the final chance to say goodbye.

The last time he saw Mitch he was on the ground... bleeding out while he and the others had to keep moving. It’s not right. They left him there, and in the end he couldn’t come back and put him to rest properly. Of course the others had done that in the meantime... but he should have been there. Like he was for the others. And while he cared about all of them, Mitch was a better friend than most.

Why did everyone else end up bloody and bruised – and yet, he got off scot-free?

It doesn’t make sense, and that just makes the bad feeling worse. At least if he had taken a bullet or gotten hit with one of those knives then he could justify why his body hurts so much. But he didn’t have anything like that. Not a scar, and not even a scrape. Just an awful heaviness and tightness that refuses to let him go.

His calloused fingers pinch at his brow again. In situations like this he still hears his father’s voice telling him to _be a man_. And god help him, it’s hard sometimes to hear that as encouragement and not a putdown. _Be a man, Aasim._

He hears the thud of the dorm doors opening. Even with the bleak atmosphere, Willy doesn’t know how to make a quiet entrance.

_Distraction_. _That’s what I need._

“Willy!” Aasim calls out to the boy as he forces any hint of betraying emotion away from his face. The smaller boy jumps at the noise, but offers a cheeky smile when he notices Aasim isn’t about to scold him. “Grab your bow, we need to check the traps.”

 

\-----

 

“Do you think Omar will be able to cook tonight?”

“No,” Aasim shoots down the idea quickly. They may just be walking over to check the traps, but the general rule of hunting is to remain quiet.

“We could move a chair out by the fire for him,” Willy doesn’t seem bothered by the harsh response. “And I could help. He could, like, tell me what to do so he doesn’t have to get up at all-”

Willy continues to talk, but Aasim stops listening, his fingers running across the string of the bow slung over his shoulder. This is supposed to be Mitch’s thing, knowing how to deal with an over-enthusiastic kid during serious moments. Not that Aasim doesn’t like the boy, quite the opposite really, but the high energy thing is more easy to deal with when someone else is buffering the brunt of it.

Or maybe his fuse is just too easily lit at the moment. He’s too tired to be patient. And every little thing is sparking his temper.

“-and then we could make firecrackers. It’ll be so awesome, like we could-“

_Poor kid is dealing with shit too,_ he reminds himself. Whatever method Willy is using is obviously working much better than his own – especially if his chattiness is anything to go by. His distraction seems to revolve around spewing out every single thought that occurs to him.

“-Rosie probably wouldn’t like it though. But – Hey, look!” Willy grabs for Aasim’s sleeve and finally draws his attention. Some of their traps have been sprung – and the dangling thread of one is swaying with an odd rhythm.

“Good catch,” Aasim offers the light praise as he pats Willy on the shoulder. He manoeuvres between the trees and over to the triggered snare, finding one of the young rabbits caught by its leg.

_How long have you been here?_ They didn’t have a chance to check the traps yesterday – too busy grabbing medical supplies and making trips to the creek for fresh water – and he has no idea if the others had bothered in the few days he had been gone. This particular rabbit looks thin and has a good portion of its right ear missing – _fresh_. Pink and scabby.

“It’s too small, isn’t it?” Willy speaks up by Aasim’s shoulder.

“Yeah. Too small. Reset the others, ok?”

The crunching of leaves follows as Willy moves away from Aasim’s side. The little rabbit flails again, swinging tiredly from the tree. _You can’t get out like that. You’re stuck._ _But I can fix that._

He grabs the rope to stop the scared little thing from bouncing all over the place as he grabs the scruff on its back. It goes surprisingly still once he has a grip on it. Aasim loosens the snare with his other hand, letting the rabbit slip free.

Wide, scared eyes lock onto his while the rabbit gives one flailing kick as Aasim lowers it to the ground. It takes off in a flash, disappearing with a series of rustled leaves.

_Lucky little thing_ , he think as he resets the snare. _It gets to live another day._ Though given how thin it was, he doubts it’s going to last long through the winter – but it would be pointless to take it back to the school in its current state.

Not even ten seconds later, he hears the flip and woosh of another of the traps going off. _For fucks sake, Willy._ He assumes the boy set up a dodgy trap, or maybe accidentally triggered one. Wouldn’t be the first time, and it probably wouldn’t be last.

“Uh, Aasim?” Willy’s voice catches him off guard, coming from slightly behind him instead of the direction of the previous noise. The boy points a finger further into the copse of trees. “Maybe it’s sick?”

_Sick?_ Aasim moves out into the open to check the trap. _You’ve gotta be shitting me..._ There in the trap is the same little rabbit, frantically trying to free itself by flailing its thin body in all directions.

“Or maybe it’s stupid...” Willy mutters quietly.

“Yeah, it’s definitely stupid...” Aasim replies as he begins the routine again to free the _stupid_ little rabbit. It’s eyes catch his again as it goes limp in his grip. How can something so small have so much going on in its tiny eyes? Like it’s pleading with him, asking for something he can never give it. Little glass marbles reflecting his own warped face back at him; dark eyes mirrored in dark eyes.

_Why did I make eye-contact with it?_ Putting it back down will likely lead to the creature dying – whether today due to its sheer stupidness and willingness to throw itself into traps, or next week when its small body is too fragile to keep it away from predators. _Fuck. Why did I look it in the eye?_

_You’re going soft,_ he chastises himself with a heavy sigh. “ _Fuck..._ Willy, hold this.” Aasim holds out the rabbit and the smaller boy looks at it curiously before following the request. Willy slings his bow over his shoulder to circle one hand around the rabbit’s ears, and the other around its core. The animal continues its placid behaviour as Willy pulls the critter against his chest.

“Are we... keeping it?” Willy asks tentatively, tilting his head at the uncharacteristic action. When they were all younger, the question was asked every other trip – the smallest kids all wanting something to dote on and play with until it inevitably escaped, died, or _went missing_. It was fine at first, but when food became more of an issue the answer was always no.

But enough people have died lately, or been irreparably damaged... he knows the death of this rabbit isn’t the same, yet it doesn’t stop the idea twisting his stomach. “For now.”

 

\-----

 

By the time they return to the school gate its late morning – the early chill is gone, yet the warmth of the day is still building. Those in the admin building who can wake up are probably running Ruby ragged already. Collecting food for everyone and doting on them in the wonderful way that she does.

Willy shoots past Aasim as they enter the courtyard, making short work of the distance between the gate and the admin building. It’s a wonder the poor rabbit hasn’t escaped the boy’s hold with how haphazardly he holds it. But at least he’s excited. Someone should be happy at the moment.

He wonders briefly if it’s worth sitting down and documenting today. Though the problem with that is that he hasn’t documented the past several days... and he doesn’t feel ready for that. Not yet. Maybe once he can relax more; when he isn’t the only one stuck in the unfortunate position of having to help with everything, but also being unable to help in a way that actually feels _helpful_.

So he moves around the yard, doing the laborious work that will hopefully be enough to finally over-exhaust him to the point where he ends up in the make-shift infirmary too. Picking up the upturned tables, dusting off the ashy bits, then moving on to the broken barricades.

_It’s going to be one hell of a bonfire._ Aasim makes two piles – one for the unsalvageable splinters that he tosses by the smaller campfire area, and the second pile for anything that can be reused by the cellar door. It isn’t easy work, but he wants it to be hard. If it was easy, he’d have time to think... and the last thing he wants to do right now is think.

Just moving. Firewood. Supplies.

“If you don’t take a break you’re gonna pass out,” Ruby’s lilting voice catches him by surprise and he nearly drops the firewood bundle on his toes. His brief fumbling causes a singular laugh to spill out from the girl. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle ya.”

“No, it’s just...” he starts but his mouth can’t agree with his brain on how to finish the thought. “I thought you were still busy with the others.”

A weary smile spreads on her face. _It doesn’t suit her_ , he’d much rather see that wide grin that crinkles the corners of her eyes. “I needed a break, and it looks like you could use one too,” she gestures with her hand at his dishevelled clothing. Grubby with a mix of general dirt, ash from the wood bits, and darkened patches of sweat. The girl moves to sit on the admin building steps, leaning her back against one of the stone columns. “Come on, Aasim. Leave it for later.”

“You sure?”

She nods and pats the empty space beside her. He drops off the pile of scrap wood and accepts the invitation; though even if he didn’t want to sit with her – which would be a blatant lie – he’s never been good at not listening to Ruby. She could ask him to fetch the highest leaf in a tree and he’d probably try to get it without question.

“So... how are they?” Judging from her attitude, he assumes they at least haven’t taken a downturn.

Ruby shrugs her shoulders. “Watchin’ ain’t going to make them better any faster than just waitin’. And that’s all we can really do now – watch and wait. Willy will holler if they need me. Speaking of,” she turns to smile up at him, bright eyes catching the light so brilliantly, “it looks like he made a new friend.”

“Ah, yeah. I just... couldn’t this time.” _Couldn’t break the little animal’s neck. Couldn’t leave it to die slowly. Couldn’t let Willy feel like it was a hopeless situation with only those two options._

“Don’t act like it’s a bad thing. It’s the first time AJ’s so much as smiled since he brought Clem back. He’s named it already... Stew.”

Aasim groans at the pun, his headache resurging along with his annoyance. He does _not_ want to have to ask the boy later where his Stew is, and if he has Stew in his room. He closes his eyes and rubs again at his brow. “Yep. Sounds like Willy.”

There’s a beat of silence as he tries to push the pain away from behind his eyes. “Your headaches are back, aren’t they?”

Part of him wants to lie, to pretend he’s ok to not worry her, yet Ruby isn’t likely to buy that. “Tired. Feel like shit.” There’s plenty more to say, but it hardly feels fair to drop all of that on the girl beside him.

“Do you wanna talk about it? I know the counsellor said to write it all down, but if that isn’t working for you anymore...” Ruby’s hand lands on the back of his shoulder. Warm and firm, providing support in a way that most of the kids haven’t felt since they were back at their family homes.

_Don’t. Don’t make me break._

But it’s too late now. Such a gentle touch from the girl who he’s been head-over-heels for since puberty sucker punched the pair of them... it’s too much. The fuse on Aasim’s composure burns up in a second and he can feel the heat building behind his eyes once again. _Don’t you dare fucking cry,_ he yells bitterly at himself. Now he really does wish he had slept last night – he’s never usually this emotional.

“They’re all gone,” he manages to force the words out without his voice breaking around the words. “How is any of this fucking fair; I know things weren’t perfect before, but I don’t want to lose anyone else.” He feels like a child. _Wanting_ hasn’t mattered for shit in years – _need_ is what mattered. And you either get what you need, or you don’t. That’s it. Whining about what he wants now isn’t going to fix a thing.

“We’re _not_ going to lose anyone else.” Ruby’s voice is comforting, even if he thinks the words are hollow. _She can’t know that._ But then he thinks his mind is simply being an ass and needs to remember who he’s talking to.

_Ruby_. The little firecracker that could just as soon blow up at you, or set off a magnificent light show by simply being who she is. The girl who played with his hair when he was just one more of the lanky fourteen year old boys – back when he needed a distraction after falling out of a tree and needed stitches. _‘Almost done, sug’. Lucky you only need two, right?’_

_Just say it. Be a fuckin’ man._

 “I- I don’t want to lose _you_. I don’t think I could handle it.” He finally drops his hand from his eyes and sees her. She has to know, she’s far from stupid – and he’s sure he’s far from a good enough actor to keep it hidden.

The freckles on her face disappear into the pink that coats her cheeks. He expects a rebuttal, another punch to the chest for trying this shit again. What he doesn’t expect is the girl to bring her other hand down onto his knee, turning her attention fully on him and giving his leg a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Maybe she’s just being nice, trying to keep him calm. But fuck self-doubt, he needs this now. He slowly lifts his hand to thread his fingers through her hair – she doesn’t pull away.

He wants to kiss her. To have something he’s selfishly wanted for years. Although he gets the feeling that he might be pushing his luck in that regard. Instead he pulls her marginally closer and presses his lips to the top of her forehead. It isn’t the grand romantic gesture he wants to give her – but he feels like they’d both regret attaching such a grand memory like that to the bitter reminder of the past few days.

As he pulls away she abruptly stands. Cherry faced and clearly not composed. “Do you... do you want to come inside with me? To check on the others?”

“I thought you needed a break?”

“I do... but maybe if you keep me company it’ll be better.”

Well, he can’t deny her that... or anything else for that matter. “I’d love to.”


	4. A Snare for Solace (part 2)

Ruby is quick to return to _nurse mode_ when they enter the admin building. Her cheeks are still rosy, and Aasim expects her to say something to him – to tell him off, to tell him not to say anything to the others... he’s not really sure what she’s thinking. But she stays quiet and walks around like she has a far more important purpose to deal with. She walks over to one of the storerooms, poring through shelves while Aasim stands behind her.

The unintended side effect of standing so close results in the boy turning into a pack mule. Each item Ruby pulls out off of the shelving she stacks in his arms without a word. Fresh blankets are first, followed by one of the stocked up first aid kits, and a plastic basket holding the little _‘distraction toys’_ that the counsellor used to keep in his office.

Really, it’s just a basket of stress balls and little puzzle objects – they’re not much, but they should keep the bed bound people more entertained than nothing. He decides it’s probably a good sign if Ruby thinks one of them is well enough to realise that sitting in the medical area is boring. They always kept books in there, but for a lot of them reading isn’t nearly as satisfying as something tactile.

The bundle sways lightly as he adjusts his grip on everything. Ruby skirts by him as she exits the room and makes her way to the medical rooms. Aasim follows behind, peering around the stack of gear in his hands so he doesn’t trip on the stairs. He doesn’t mind carrying everything, even if it’s difficult to keep it all balanced in his exhausted state – what he does mind is the quiet that settles over them.

_You made things awkward,_ the doubt in his head festers the longer the silence drags on. And the silence does drag. He simply trails behind Ruby like a lost puppy desperate for attention. _Of course she wouldn’t turn you down; you played the fucking pity card. Ruby’s too polite to call you out for being a dipshit._

And that’s just how he feels at the moment – like he made a bad call that has him stuck in a strange limbo. Not rejected, but not accepted because he couldn’t put enough of himself on the line.

_Maybe she thinks you were just thanking her for listening._ Kissing her on the forehead felt like more than a thank you to him, but he really wishes he knew what it meant for her. After all, she never seemed to shy away from comforting contact, offering hugs and a shoulder to lean on whenever things got too heavy. He’s... not so good at that. The only time he’s been able to do anything close was when it was absolutely necessary – carrying one of the others when they were physically unable to move. So maybe the sentiment got lost.

_Damn it_... this is why he hates the awful combination of being overtired and overemotional, and not having sufficient distraction. He just wants to put his thoughts on paper and toss them into the fire pit with the rest of the scraps.

In his inattentive state, his foot catches on the final step of the stairs. _Shit,_ Aasim is lucky to not face plant or drop the entire stack of items in his arms. It doesn’t stop the unflattering stumble and noise that manages to slip out of him.

Before he can really register what’s happening, Ruby lifts the first aid kit from the pile and pulls most of the blankets out of his arms. “I’m sorry, Aasim – didn’t realise I put blinders on you. Ya should have said something.” She smiles at him before her face seems to resurge in colour and her eyes dart away from him. _She can’t even look at me._ “Come on,” Ruby motions down the hall with her head before moving, “Omar could use a visitor while I check on Clementine.”

They had separated Omar from Clementine and the others since his injury was mostly on the mend. Plus the mattresses they had moved into the principal’s office made the place pretty cramped – not that any of them seem to care. They wanted to be close, to keep watch on each other. It’s where Ruby had slept too, just in case someone took a harsh turn during the night.

 “Sure..” Aasim makes his way over to one of the old office rooms with the plastic basket and one blanket. Hopefully Omar can offer him enough distraction too, then maybe he can ignore his thoughts for a while. Or at least put them on hold until he can figure out if he’s screwed things up, or if his brain is just being an ass.

Aasim offers a swift knock on the door before pushing it open. He only really expected to see Omar inside, but instead he finds Omar sitting on the room’s only couch and a pair of boys sitting on the floor. All three stare up at him as he enters, the creak of the door is accompanied by Willy’s excited voice. “Shut the door, shut the door!”

  He follows the request, stepping inside and pushing the door closed behind him with his heel. “You know this isn’t a playroom, right?” Aasim asks rhetorically – Willy should know better, AJ on the other hand is probably just following the other boy’s lead. The smaller boy at least has the decency to look mildly sheepish for being called out.

“Yeah, but Ruby said that Stew can’t go in the in the big room.” _Ugh, the rabbit._ It must be in the room somewhere.

“No shit, Rosie’s scent is all over the place. I didn’t let you keep it just to let it have a heart attack.” Willy just shrugs at Aasim’s light scolding while AJ scurries around looking for the little animal amongst the sparsely furnished room. “And the germ factor –“

“It’s fine, really,” Omar cuts in, “it gets awfully quiet in here.”

Probably for the best that he interrupted; he was about to bring up how bad of a situation Clementine is still in. Even with his limited understanding of medicine, he knows that a large wound like hers is likely to get infected. AJ was a sobbing wreck yesterday, and if playing with the rabbit stops that – then fine.

Aasim turns his attention back to Omar, his leg only lightly bandaged to keep him from reopening the healing wound. Ruby didn’t even need to do much for him, the bullet went clean through and the skin had already started to heal up by the time they got back to the school.

“I get it, dude,” Aasim sighs, “it’s quiet out there too.” He doesn’t mean for it to sound quite as depressing as it is. Though it is true. “How’s the leg?”

Omar scoots over on the couch to give the other boy room to sit. Aasim accepts the invitation, slumping onto the cushions and tossing the blanket and basket beside him. Not the smartest move – his body feels physically heavy as soon as the comfort sets in. _Focus,_ Aasim forces himself to remember why he’s here and looks over at Omar beside him. He bends his leg slowly with his hand supporting his thigh. “It moves alright, but I might need help with the stairs.”

“Aasim can carry you down the stairs,” AJ’s voice echoes out from behind the far end of the couch. His puff of hair appearing over the armrest shortly before he holds up the little rabbit like his prize catch.

“Oh, can I now?” Aasim responds wryly.

“You carried Clem up the stairs.” AJ responds like his child logic is absolutely flawless. Of course, he’s forgetting that Clem was unconscious at the time and he was still loaded up on adrenaline from seeing that bloody wheelbarrow at the gates. Then there’s the fact that she is significantly lighter than Omar – even before she lost her leg. 

“It’s not quite the same, kid. I don’t think I can princess carry Omar.” The boys share a laugh at the mental image – all except for AJ who just looks confused.

“ _Princess carry?_ ” The little boy directs the question at Willy.

“Yeah, like,” Willy does an imitation of the pose from his spot on the floor, his arms outstretched in front of him. “You know, like in the old fairy tale books.”

Something about that response makes AJ physically bristle, the animal in his hands letting out a weak flail in the boy’s tightening grip. Thankfully for little Stew, AJ notices and loosens his hold.

_What’s that about?_ Sometimes Aasim really wishes he could read people better, or at least remember what his own mind was like when he was younger – but something tells him AJ’s thought processes aren’t really comparable to the _average_ kid his age.

“So... Clem’s a princess, then?” His voice is tiny and unsure of the words.

Silence follows the question as none of the others can think of how to respond. Omar is the one to break out of the stupor first. “She could be. You’ll have to ask her when she wakes up.” That little hint of optimism seems to brighten AJ’s expression, if only a little.

“You said that there are princess books,” he looks over to Willy, “can I see them?”

Willy looks mildly confused, but shrugs it off as he gets up off the floor. “I mean, if you want.”

Aasim can practically hear the boy wanting to add some sort of complaint about those books being for little kids – it’s something he has said before when he was busy trying to be _big._ Back when Mitch would tease him for being small. Somehow Mitch got away with stuff like that, maybe because he also spent the most time with Willy outside of those moments.

It was his own strange method of keeping the kid grounded. Drawing the kid away from objects and more towards the people around him; because all those old toys and books just seemed to make the boy sad. But the people, they were going to keep him alive...

_Don’t go down that road again..._ He pinches his brow in preparation for the headache that is sure to follow this train of thought.

The smaller kids in front of him are oblivious to his thought gymnastics, and they simply move towards the door. Willy offers a quick wave over his shoulder to the boys on the couch, “I guess we’ll see you guys later.” The door shuts with a heavy thud behind him.

“They seem to be getting along,” Omar leans back into the couch’s armrest, wincing slightly with the movement.

“Yeah,” Aasim lets out an exasperated breath as he reaches for one of the stress balls. It’s no better than a coloured sponge, but he really wants something to stop his brain from working right now. Squeezing the life out of the inanimate object just seems to make his knuckles creak.

“You didn’t come here to see me, did you?” Omar raises his brows at him. In spite of the poor implication of that statement, Omar doesn’t seem perturbed – more curious than anything.

“I’m a bad actor, aren’t I?”

Omar shrugs and taps a finger against his own face, “you’ve got the sleepwalking eyes on at the moment.”

_Sounds about right._ “Haven’t slept since the boat.”

Thankfully the other boy doesn’t pry. None of them are strangers to sleepless nights, and most of the time those issues just get mentioned and dropped before anyone ends up uncomfortable. “So, why are you here? Not just to deliver a blanket, surely.”

Aasim squeezes the stress ball again; he’s not sure how _real_ he should be here. Is it more or less manly to admit he’s only here right now because he thought he’d get a chance to hang out with Ruby? He’s not really comfortable with _feeling talk_ , but not being bothered by the potential judgement means he’s strong... _right?_

_Shit, this isn’t supposed to be so hard._

“Ruby asked me to help out,” he resorts to a half-truth. It’s the safer option – _the chickenshit option_ , his brain mocks.

“Mhhmm,” Omar hums with a smirk.

“Don’t start, dude,” Aasim tries his hardest to glare the topic away. It’s not nearly as effective as he wants as Omar continues smiling. “I’m serious; I’m not in the mood.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Omar’s grin stays firmly in place as he speaks before his expression shifts. He shrugs lightly, turning the conversation back into something casual and friendly instead of minor teasing. “She likes you, you know. At least I think she does... No one else gets away with swearing at the dinner table.”

Aasim doesn’t know how to respond to that. His eyes are drawn to his hands, watching the little bits of sponge split between his fingers. He doesn’t know why it unsettles him to think that Ruby _might_ care about him in a similar way that he does for her. It just... does something to his stomach that he can’t put into words.

“You could just talk to her,” Omar says with blasé confidence.

“Like it’s ever been that easy.”

“It could be. How do you know if you don’t try?”

“I _did_ try, that’s why I’m here.”

A quizzical look takes over Omar’s face. “She turned you down?”

“Well... no, but- look, dude, I don’t know what’s going on anymore.” In his frustration, Aasim throws the little stress ball across the room. Pointless really since the little ball simply drops soundlessly when it hits the far wall. It’s not nearly as cathartic as he wants it to be.

The room is silent, and Aasim wants nothing more than for the building to collapse and swallow the awkward atmosphere that he’s created. _So much for being a man_ , he chides himself, _you’re throwing a toddler temper tantrum_.

The couch shifts as Omar shuffles nervously beside him. Aasim feels like he has made a lot of people feel uncomfortable today – and none of them deserve to be on the receiving end of his bad mood.

Omar just sighs. “If you keep putting your foot in your mouth, then why not just write her something?”

“...Because that would be a smart idea and I’m a fucking idiot,” Aasim stands from the couch and gives Omar a firm pat on the shoulder. “I owe you one.”

“I’ll consider us even when you carry me downstairs.”

Aasim lets out an airy laugh. “Sure, dude, but you can’t blame me if I drop your ass.”

 

\-----

 

_Roses are red,_

_Rubies are too,_

_And like all things red,_

_I really like you._

...

_You’re a fucking idiot, Aasim_. The page is quickly pulled out of the notebook and scrunched into a paper snowball that he throws down the admin building’s stairwell. He watches from his spot on the top step as his crumpled feelings tumble down to the mid-floor landing. 

The point of his pencil taps against the book in his lap. No matter how long he stares at it, the words don’t magically appear.

_Ruby_. He writes at the top of the page and the rest of his thoughts all fall over each other in their rush to get into a coherent order.

It would be too childish to just write out the question he actually wants answered – his hand physically refusing to simply say _‘I like you a lot. Do you like me?’._

_Tell her how much you need her. Tell her she’s beautiful..._

In spite of how much his brain urges him, he can’t find the right way to put those things on paper. There’s just too much he wants to say.

The echoing of voices from downstairs causes him to snap the notebook shut. A short moment later AJ comes rushing up the stairs with his arms laden with books from the old pre-school bookshelves. Picture books mostly, the kind that told fairy tale like stories by putting one sentence on each page.

Willy trails along behind him, Stew held under one arm while he’s busy stifling laughter. Which is _never_ a good sign.

“Aasim! Good, you can help me with something,” AJ nearly stumbles in his attempt to skip steps with his little legs. With Willy’s continued snorting, Aasim can’t help but feel like this is going to be bad.

“Willy...” Aasim starts sternly, and the boy puts his hand up in submission.

“H-hey, it’s AJ who wants help, I didn’t do anything!” The toothy grin is everything but convincing.

AJ’s eyes look between the two like he could somehow make sense of the history he’s never been privy to. _Give the kid a break._

He does his best attempt at a reassuring smile. “What do you need, kid?”

The brightness returns to the little kids face. AJ places the books down as he sits beside Aasim on the top step – pulling the top book into his lap, he flips through the heavily worn-out pages. _Snow White,_ Aasim recognizes the pictures as they fly by in AJ’s rush to find whatever part of the story that’s so important.

“So, the princess falls asleep and everyone’s sad ‘cause she’s not waking up – but then the prince comes and wakes her up.” He points a finger at the page in question, Prince Charming lifting Snow White from her resting place and carrying her off to his white horse.

“Right?”

“So Omar said that Clem could be a princess, so we just need a prince to kiss her, then she’ll wake up!”

Willy’s laughter finally escapes as AJ looks up at Aasim like he’s had the most brilliant idea ever. Aasim just drops his forehead into his palm.

“What?” AJ asks indignantly. “If you can carry princesses around, then you’re the closest to a prince we have, so can you wake Clem up, _please_?”

The laughter just gets louder as Aasim gets more mortified by AJ’s child-brain. Why does he have to be only one to deal with the kids right now?

“Willy, I swear to god, the next time you fall in the creek I’m not helping you out.”

The door to the principal’s office pushes open harshly and Willy’s mouth snaps shut. Ruby’s angry face peers out of the doorway as she seethes out in angry whispers, “do y’all mind keeping it down – I’m trying to keep people alive in here.”

“...I just want Clem to wake up,” AJ pleads, “Aasim could do it. He could at least try.”

“Try what?” Ruby asks and suddenly Aasim doesn’t feel like he can handle being in the building anymore.

He abruptly stands, offering a quick “don’t worry about it” over his shoulder as he walks downstairs. He just needs to sit outside and breathe. The boy can’t find the happy balance today. Everything is either too quiet or too loud, too much and not enough at the same time.

Being outside is just the other extreme that he doesn’t want, but his composure has worn thin. If he could sleep, that would probably help, yet that doesn’t solve anything _now._

He moves over to one of the picnic tables, it’s surface still mildly ashy, and sits down. Aasim drops his arms onto the table’s surface to cradle the side of his head – he stares at the swaying leaves in the trees over the school’s wall. His heavy eyes close at some point and he finds himself listening to the breeze.

Like waves on the beach, resting his body on the sun-warmed sand.

_Just sleep._

 

\-----

 

A warm presence causes Aasim to stir. He opens his eyes abruptly to see Ruby placing her palm against his forehead.

“Sorry sug’, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay.” He mumbles out, not quite sure whether he’s actually awake or not. It’s still light out, so he can’t have been out for very long, yet the grogginess is clinging to his senses.

“It’s not like you to sleep outside, you’re gonna get sick doin’ that.” She pulls her hands away and looks down on him. Her hands on her hips and that caring look on her face. Ruby can never turn that look off, even when she’s angry he can see it behind the layers.

Aasim sits up properly, trying to brush the sleepiness away from his face. “I know... just, overloaded, you know?”

“Yeah, I do,” she lets out a tired sigh and moves to sit beside him. The girl fiddles with her hands on the table, nervousness breaching the surface. “I had to tell AJ fairy tales aren’t real. Poor little guy doesn’t know what to do right now.”

“Did you tell him I’m not Prince Charming?”

Ruby chuckles, her mood seeming to lighten up a fraction. “Nah, that one’s your job.”

“Uhh, great.”

Ruby just chuckles again before turning mildly sombre. Her eyes focus on her own hands as she speaks. “I’m sorry for before. I didn’t mean ta brush you off, but I needed to think for a while.”

Aasim remains quiet, scared to ruin the moment by saying something he’ll regret. Something stupid that will somehow send them backwards instead of forwards. _What would she do at a moment like this?_ Tentatively, he places his hand on her shoulder. He hopes it’s comforting, because it’s really hard for him to make the contact feel normal.

The smile she shows him is worth the effort. “And I, uh, I found this,” she unfolds a crumpled piece of paper out of her shirt pocket and places it on the table.

_Well, shit._ The awful attempt at poetry sits out in the open like a beacon to his clumsy wordplay. “Uhh,” he starts as his face turns several shades darker with embarrassment.

“Don’t try to deny it,” Ruby laughs, “it’s your handwriting, Aasim. No one else has chicken scratch like you do.”

“Look, I- I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to find the perfect words and I just couldn’t write them down. But I do mean it... it’s just-”

Ruby stops his nervous chattering by turning towards him and wrapping her arms over his shoulders. It’s not the most comfortable hug since they’re sitting beside each other, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything. “Don’t sound so sorry about it,” she speaks over his shoulder, “I love it.”

_This is your moment,_ his brain screams at him. _You didn’t fuck up before, she likes you._

As Ruby pulls away from the hug he shifts to pull her back in. _Don’t panic._ He slowly leans towards her, and he is thrilled when she meets him halfway. Their lips meet, and his chest feels like it wants to burst. His heart bouncing against his ribs like a jackhammer.

It’s only a short moment, but it’s soft and sweet. Ruby pulls back first, her face flushed the colour of strawberries.

“I promise, I’ll find better words for you.”


	5. Nock Nock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set a few weeks after the end of TFS, Clementine is trying to deal with the loss of her leg and her general ability to help around the school. AJ and Aasim attempt to brighten her mood with a little bit of arts and crafts.
> 
> This story takes some liberties with canon. Assume that the Aasim pining over Ruby in episode 2 either didn’t happen, or that Louis’ teasing was simply him trying to get under the other guy’s skin. Or let’s just pretend that we didn’t see the Ruby and Aasim handholding and food sharing segments at the end of episode 4. Follows the save Louis route with no in-game romance. Clementine/Aasim pairing (let me dream, ok?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also on a more personal note, this is my dream ship that I really wanted when I first started playing episode 1 of TFS, and I swear I’ll keep sailing with it long after the river dries out. And since there’s next to nothing for the pairing, I’m pretty much in a drought here. So seriously, let me know if this is your cup of tea, because I’d love to see more of this pairing, even if I have to write it all myself. Also I didn’t intend for this to be quite as long as it is... woops.

Aasim taps his pencil beside his notes, watching the growing cluster of dots turn into dust. It doesn’t matter how long he stares at the numbers and lines, he can’t seem to make them work out right in his head. The longer he stares the more the vague shapes turn into nothing but meaningless scribbles.

He really should just ask for help from someone who is better at visualising things... someone who could do better than trying to copy flat pictures out of old library books and somehow depict them in three dimensions. But getting help at this point feels like cheating. This was AJ’s idea, and the kid came to him of all people to try to put it in motion.

_“It’s going to be a surprise, ok?”_ AJ had been absolutely beaming, a grin splitting his face from ear to ear. It was the happiest he had seen the kid since Clem started walking around the school again. How could he say no to that?

_Probably by telling him you don’t know shit about building stuff like this. Because you don’t have a fucking clue what you’re doing._

He starts tracing the already bold lines on his diagram. It doesn’t really make it any clearer, if anything just the opposite, yet it feels like _something_. Not something helpful, but at least he isn’t just sitting and staring into space.

The fiddly work was always Mitch’s thing. Working with numbers and making small things in very precise ways. It’s not the same as making traps that work using ropes, triggers, and weights. That’s just taking things that already work and tacking extra bits onto it until it works the way he wants it to – not making things from scratch.

He tried drawing it all out, putting the measurements and labels on everything, and even getting all of Mitch’s equipment and bringing it to his room. All the little saws, screws, hinges, and even the tools he doesn’t know the name or function of. Like the mere presence of the gear will somehow give him the insight he needs to progress, but he just doesn’t know where to start.

The pencil drop from his fingers as he scoots his chair back from his desk. It’s the middle of the night, and no amount of candle light is enough to actually break through the fog of numbers that crowds his head. They don’t mean anything to him without something tangible to hold onto.

He reaches for the scrap pieces of wood beside his chair – mostly the old bits of furniture and the broken banisters from the stairwell railings. It’s tedious work, laying each piece out on the table, measuring them, and writing said measurements on the side of the wood. He compares them to the numbers he had worked out with AJ, and while none are exact there are some pieces that should be workable with some cutting.

Though that will have to wait until morning, it wouldn’t be much of a secret if he woke up the whole school in the middle of the night with a chorus of sawing.

What he can do at this time is make notches in the wood to mark the important details. Setting up all the bits that could potentially be usable and giving them matching labels to his diagram – colouring in where he needs to cut chunks out completely and where to put the hinges...

Even with everything in front of him, they still all look like separate and isolated pieces. A blank jigsaw puzzle that doesn’t even make a square when completed.

_You’re gonna fuck this up_ , his brain whispers in his ear. Which is entirely unhelpful. Because, yeah, he’s probably going to fuck this up. And he’s probably going to fuck up his attempts to fix the original fuck up.

It’s not going to stop him from trying. That’s the whole reason he has so many backup pieces of wood to work with. He doesn’t like that he’s essentially planned out his own failure, but it’s better than no plan at all. Even if all the vague possibilities give him a headache.

Clementine is worth the headaches and the calloused fingers.

He remembers the look on her face when it was time to check all the traps. The forced smile as she made some offhand comment about keeping the school safe while they’re gone. Like she thought she was worthless.

It didn’t help that Violet refused to stay put – insisting that she can see well enough out of her left eye to dump the fish out of the traps and into a bucket. Clem even encouraged her to do it, and none of them would challenge her on that topic.

And she was sitting in the same spot when they came back. The strained smile and warm greeting like she hadn’t been bothered by her inability to help how she wanted. Why she felt the need to lie like that is beyond him – because it wasn’t convincing, and worse, she wouldn’t admit to the lie either. They all wanted to fix it, but she refused to admit there was something there to be fixed.

_She’s not useless..._ and somehow she can’t see that for herself, but she can for Violet. Putting on the optimistic view for Violet’s benefit but drowning in her own pessimism.

It _hurt_ to see her like that. Painful in an awful way that he pretends not to understand. He pretends that what he feels is guilt by another name - yet he knows that’s a lie. A lie he refuses to acknowledge because it would make things _weird._ Guilt is a safer alternative than _that_.

Because if he was being honest with himself, a big part of this project was about simply missing the girl. Louis was making an effort to be less annoying when they went hunting together, but it wasn’t the same as having Clem there.

It was ridiculous really, he had been hunting in that same spot for years, and Clem appears only a month or two back and now the trees don’t look quite the same without her. The breeze is always too quiet or too loud. Even the crushed leaves don’t smell quite the same anymore. Somehow, with her there it felt like less of a life-sustaining chore and more like a recreational activity – something to look forward to instead of just tolerated.

Guilt couldn’t sow the seeds of admiration that have grown in him, or the joy he got from just being in her proximity. Nor could it explain why Clementine has taken up an increasing amount of pages in his journals. Both the good and the bad things that he desperately wanted to find solutions to.

 And maybe he and AJ could make it better by giving her a better foot to stand on.

 

\-----

 

After several nights of marking scrap pieces of wood, and multiple throwaways that he cut poorly, he ended up with something _close_ to his diagrams. It cost him his free time and the skin off of some of his fingers, along with his pride when he had to ask for sewing advice and where the scrap fabrics were. Which would have been fine if Louis hadn’t been mysteriously present whenever he asked – raising his eyebrows and surely wondering why Aasim was being so adamant to turn down Ruby’s offer to mend whatever he needed.

Louis was going to be hell to deal with if he already suspected something was up. But Aasim figured that a little bit of teasing and sore fingers would be worth it if he could make this thing work for Clementine. Just the act of working towards that goal made all the little inconveniences feel worth it.

Well, he thought so until AJ asked to see it.

“It looks kinda...” AJ starts and Aasim already knows by his tone that it’s not good. The little boy presses his nose right up to the wooden contraption on the desk, peering up at it like the new angle will somehow make it seem better. “It looks a lot like a little chair, but with less legs.”

“You can say it looks like shit,” Aasim can’t help rubbing his hand down his tired face as he drops into his desk chair. AJ isn’t wrong; it looks like a barstool with a sunken fabric seat and a pair of hinged posts jutting up on either side.

“No I can’t. Clem doesn’t like it when I swear,” AJ pouts.

“But it does look like shit, doesn’t it?”

The kid pauses for a suspicious amount of time before responding. “Maybe it just needs a decoration.”

_That’s a yes._

For all his effort, his creation looks so mechanical and dead, and absolutely nothing like how he pictured it. Though that isn’t really saying much. He somehow just thought it would look... warmer. Or at least less like some sort of new weapon for Louis to swing around.

It might not look as presentable as he’d like, but it should work... in theory. So long as AJ took his measurements right – which is questionable since his method of ‘measuring’ involved standing next to Clem and using his hand to mark places on his own body before rushing back to Aasim with the measuring tape.

Though the whole contraption still needs some belts or straps to keep it fastened properly without simply falling off. And while he has made the prosthetic with notches to hold the spare belts he has access too, it isn’t something he can add right now.

He doesn’t really feel confident enough in his estimates of Clem’s leg size to attempt that without her input. He’d also be creeped out with himself if he could somehow make that perfect on the first attempt. So he doesn’t even try.

“Can I colour it?” AJ mutters and breaks Aasim out of his thoughts. “Maybe it’ll look better with colour. You can colour it too, if you want.” An eager glimmer lights up the boys eyes as he continues. “We could get everyone to decoration it! She likes it when people draw her things, I’m sure she’d like it if everyone drew her something.”

The little guy’s enthusiasm somehow forces a smile onto Aasim’s face in spite of the dour mood his lack of sleep has stuck him in. He doesn’t even care that AJ still misunderstands some of the words he says. “It was your idea, kid. Only seems fair that you go first. Everyone else can have a turn after it’s finished.”

“Yes!” AJ’s little hands shake excitedly as he bounces in place. Before Aasim can even begin to formulate a response, the kid takes off. The door being rapidly thrown open and closed with a crashing thud.

Aasim lets out a slow breath as he leans back heavily in his chair. The little guy has way more energy than he has at the moment.

Not that it doesn’t feel good to see someone so happy with his work, but it’s a lot to take in when he’s stressing. He’s got the hard job, trying to keep it a secret with an overactive five year old unintentionally making that unbelievably difficult. Then there’s the fact that he’s trying to make something way above his skill level that both works and pleases AJ, Clementine, and himself.

One out of three isn’t too bad so far. And maybe AJ’s right, a splash of colour might make the whole thing shine in a better light. Then maybe they can raise the numbers up to two out of three.

It doesn’t take the kid long to return with a handful of pencils – and shockingly for Aasim, without someone else trailing behind him. He half expected Louis, Ruby, or Omar  to come by and question why he was slamming doors. As nice of a sentiment it is to keep the gift a secret, AJ isn’t the best at keeping quiet when he gets excited.

And he’s definitely excited. He practically launches himself at the desk, throwing down all of his pencils and reaching for the plain prosthetic in front of him.

“Careful, buddy, it bites fingers,” Aasim jokes lightly, but it doesn’t slow AJ down in the slightest. He just scribbles like a mad child, sparing the briefest look over his shoulder to the older boy watching him.  

Aasim catches sight of what looks like a bunch of shakily drawn apples. He’ll admit to finding the effort AJ puts into his work wonderful, even if it’s very wobbly. Then just as quickly as the kid started his decorating, he stops and pulls away. His dark eyes search Aasim’s before he tilts his head in thought. “Can I ask you something?” AJ finally manages to form the words.

Aasim shrugs his shoulders. “Sure, kid.”

AJ’s eyes can’t seem to find a spot to focus on, his gaze drifting from Aasim’s face, to the prosthetic, and then down to the pencil he’s still gripping in his hands. “Tenn said that you voted for us to stay... before, when I shot Marlon. If I make mistakes again, would you make sure we can stay? I don’t want Clem to have to fight for me by herself anymore.”

_Ah, shit... How the fuck are you supposed to explain this..._

He couldn’t stand by and let them walk out to die. Not to mention that they all rely on Clem’s experience with stuff outside of the safe zone to keep them protected. It would be outright stupid to toss that away. It’s not something he even has to think about anymore.

In truth, he finds it hard to picture the school without them. There had been so many people with them before, and every time they lost someone it hurt just as bad as it did on day one... sending Clem and AJ out again would not only be excruciatingly painful, but it would just be a bigger reminder of how empty the school, _his home_ , has become.

Yet all of that is a big deal to drop on the kid and expect him to fully understand. And it’s a bit too revealing of things he’s not comfortable voicing to himself, let alone anyone else.

“Look, AJ, none of us _wanted_ to just get rid of you. It was about being safe – and I feel like it’s safer for everyone if you two are here. It would take one hell of a fuck up for me to change my mind on that.” AJ looks thoughtful before he opens his mouth to speak – but Aasim cuts him off. “Clem lost her leg for us, that’s not easy to forget. And if that meant nothing I wouldn’t be trying to make it up to her. If anything, we owe you guys, not the other way around.”

That seems to be enough to light up AJ’s face. He holds out the pencil in his hands to the older boy, “so you’ll fight for us?”

“Yeah, I’ll fight for you guys,” Aasim smiles back, taking the pencil like it sealed the promise.

 

\-----

 

Aasim stands in front of Clementine and AJ’s room. It’s still relatively early, before breakfast but not so early that they should still be sleeping. He holds the recently decorated prosthetic against his chest, a selection of old belts under his arm, and his right hand stuck hovering in position to knock. AJ was expecting him to show up, the pair of them deciding that the morning would be the best time to give Clem her gift. But something stops his fist from making contact with the door.

_Don’t panic_.

The mantra repeats on loop in his head, and while he feels like he’s keeping the trepidation off of his face, it doesn’t stop the twisting in his gut and the seizing of his arm. Aasim knows that he’s being stupid; there isn’t even anything worth worrying about.

_All I have to do is give her the leg, and fit the straps, and..._

The _‘and’_ is the problem.

It doesn’t sit well with him that he can’t figure out what happens after. Half a plan isn’t a plan; and half a plan is just taking steps in the dark and hoping there’s nothing to trip over. Though in this case he knows there are so many pitfalls he could fall into. Not being able to see them only makes it feel worse.

He could have screwed up the construction and it could fall apart after a single step.

He might have made a mistake on the sizing and then it would be useless.

He may fumble in fitting the straps and make everyone involved uncomfortable.

Which could be a painful mistake given what he’s seen of Clem’s fighting skills and his tendency to get thumped in the gut over minor disagreements. He’d rather not take his chances with that again.

... _You’re being an idiot_ , he chastises himself for what feels like the umpteenth time since he woke up this morning, and finally forces his hand to knock on the door.

Not surprisingly, AJ is at the door in seconds while Clem’s voice mumbles out a quiet _yeah_ in greeting. She sounds tired, but it’s no secret that she has taken to sleeping in more frequently as of late. If not for AJ she could probably sleep well into the afternoon... which concerns him a little, yet not enough for him to potentially upset her by prying.

Besides, maybe his and AJ’s little gift can motivate her. At least he hopes so.

“Aasim!” AJ welcomes him brightly while enthusiastically grabbing for Aasim’s free hand. The kid can’t actually drag him, though Aasim is fine with letting AJ pull him further into the room. “Clem, we’ve got the biggest surprise ever for you!”

“Oh, yeah?” Clem stifles a yawn as she shifts around on her bunk. She clearly hasn’t been awake long judging from her bleary eyes and dishevelled appearance. It’s the first time he’s been in her room this early, and before now he didn’t know that she slept in her day clothes. He assumes it’s another of those quirks she still has from travelling around with AJ outside the walls.

_Don’t stare_ , he has to remind himself why he’s here.

“Uh, yeah, we do,” _smooth_. His mouth goes dry as he tentatively holds out the prosthetic in front of him. Thankfully, his restraint is quickly overshadowed by the small child bouncing around beside him.

“Surprise!” AJ lifts his arms in the air like he’s throwing around invisible confetti. “I told you I’d get you a new foot, and Aasim made a prospetic one!”

“Pros- _thetic_ ,” Clem corrects AJ before the words sink in, her tired expression suddenly morphing into confusion. “A prosthetic?”

“Yeah, so you can walk around again without the crutches,” AJ says excitedly.

Aasim is just glad that her attention isn’t solely focused on him at the moment because he’s finding it hard to keep the anxiety off of his face. Or worse, his giddiness – that’s not something he really wants her to see right now. Covering everything with a friendly smile is the best he can manage at the moment.

He motions the artificial limb further towards Clementine. “Consider it a thank you, for everything you did for us.” Clem just stares at the object like she can’t fathom its existence. “You saved my ass before, it’s only fair.” His attention turns to where her leg stump is hanging over the side of her bed. “Can I...?” He’s not sure how to finish the sentence without it being incredibly creepy.

“I-“ she starts but seems lost – it’s not an expression he likes seeing on her face. “Thank you... really,” she lifts her left leg marginally off the mattress, “I don’t even know what to say.”

As Aasim takes a hesitant step closer to crouch in front of her, AJ bounds right onto the bed beside Clementine. “You don’t have to thank us, we wanted to do it,” the kid throws his little arms around Clem’s shoulders and incites an airy giggle from the girl. Such a joyful noise causes Aasim’s breath to catch in his throat for a moment.

_God, I’ve missed that sound._ He’s only heard it a few times, and usually it was focused on AJ, but he can’t find enough words to describe the positive feelings it ignites in him.

_Focus. Her Leg. Don’t make it weird, just help her._

Aasim sets the artificial leg down on the floor and tentatively guides what remains of her shin into the square depression on top. He breathes a sigh of relief to find that it fits – it may be the slightest bit too large, but that’s better than the alternative. _I can add some padding to fix that_ , though that can wait until after he has the fastening issue sorted _._

Threading the old belts through the notches in the wood is simple enough; however they are all far too long and need to be cut to the shortest possible length so she doesn’t trip over the things. “Tell me if it’s too tight, ok?”

After Clem hums out her approval, Aasim starts tugging the straps until they are firm – also while trying his hardest to make as little actual contact with her leg as possible.

One band circles just below her knee and keeps the bottom portion of the prosthetic angled correctly. The second strap is thicker and wraps around the hinged posts and her lower thigh to hopefully keep the contraption from slipping off. Ideally, he’d like to also connect the upper strap vertically to her belt loops – though he’s not sure if that’s only his brain worrying and making unnecessary safeguards. The only way to know for sure would be to test it.

On cue, AJ holds out his mini knife. “Thanks, kiddo,” Aasim mutters while he takes the knife and starts to cut off the excess length on the belts. It takes him only a moment before he stands up and hands the knife back to AJ.

The excitable little fellow is quick to join Aasim in standing in front of Clementine – the girl slowly lifting and testing the movement of the fake limb. She seems hesitant to actual put her weight onto it and only attempts to stand when both Aasim and AJ extend hands to help keep her steady.

Clementine wobbles and her left hand digs into the fabric of Aasim’s sleeve – not that he minds, he can handle a tight grip on his forearm while she gets her footing. He can feel the uneven breath that escapes her as she slowly settles onto the prosthetic. “Are you alright?” Aasim asks lightly.

“Yeah,” there’s a tightness to her voice and her grip tenses on his arm. “It’s just... different. And it’s a lot.” She angles her face downwards and he can hear a broken sigh slip out.

_Oh shit_ , Aasim’s brain goes into a minor panic as Clem’s voice borders on cracking on its edges. If she starts crying right now, he’s not sure what the hell he’s supposed to do. He opts for pretending that everything is normal – that she’s not overwhelmed, and that he’s not way too invested in her reactions for this to be casual. “It’s no big deal,” he shrugs and tries to throw off his concerns, “you’ll get used to it.”

“I’m still getting used to the crutches,” her hold on his arm grows heavier as she lifts her new leg off the floor, “this might take a little while.” She rotates her leg and seems to be taking in the scattered drawings.

“Do you like it?” AJ asks from Clem’s opposite side. “I remember you liked apples, so I drew you some. And me and you are on there, and Rosie too.”

“I love it,” Clem smiles down at the boy before turning her attention to Aasim. “Why are there flames?” Clementine asks incredulously. Clearly from the direct look she’s aiming at him, she can tell he’s responsible for that portion of the decoration.

“Flames make everything go faster.” He’s more than happy to hear her laugh at his stupid joke. “Come on, you can’t make a liar out of me. We’ll have to find ways to slow you down in a week.”

With tentative steps, Aasim supports Clementine as she walks through the dorm building. AJ marches proudly in front of them, holding doors open and grinning the whole time, uncaring about how long the relatively short distance takes them to cover. For him it must be like seeing Clem as close to _complete_ again – back to how he remembers her before she got herself dragged into the school’s drama.

Aasim knows it’s not the same as before, but he’s glad to make things even marginally better.

“Oh, shit.” Louis is the first to spot the slow moving trio as they exit into the courtyard. The musical boy abandons his spot beside Omar and his cooking pot to greet them properly. “Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Louis drags his gaze down to Clementine’s leg before focusing on Aasim’s face and raising his eyebrows – something that causes the boy’s stomach to instantly tense. Thankfully, Aasim seems to be the only one to notice the scrutinising look.

“Isn’t it cool?” AJ pipes up and Louis’ attention is quickly diverted.

“Super cool. You and Vi are gonna make me jealous, I might have to train a parrot to keep up.”

Clementine lets out a light chuckle. “You would want a parrot.”

“Well, if _someone_ would sing a duet with me, maybe I wouldn’t have to train a bird to do it.”

Aasim can’t help but groan at the very idea. “Please don’t.” Louis can sing all he wants, but to add a bird squawk beside him? No. And knowing him, he’d train any singing pet to follow Aasim around just to torment him.

“Does that mean you’re volunteering, buddy?” Louis smirks while Aasim rolls his eyes.

There’s a squeeze on his arm that draws Aasim’s attention back to the Clementine. She gestures over to the tables and suddenly he remembers that he’s supposed to be supporting her right now; not getting caught up in Louis’ banter. “Right, sorry” the boy mutters.

Once she’s seated at the table he slides in beside her.

It’s a little strange. As each new person arrives, Clementine is swooped off again into excited conversations. AJ fetches his pencils and everyone adds onto the slowly crowded surfaces of the prosthetic.

Omar gives him a rather firm pat on the back when he serves up breakfast, and it just feels good for the recent gloom to be pushed away. He overhears the girls discussing all the things Clem will soon be able to do. A smile marks his features unbidden.

He can’t help it. Even when he catches Louis giving him a strange, hyper-focused stare, Aasim can’t seem to completely hide his cheerfulness. It feels like the start of a new chapter. Like the darker aspects have finally been written and sealed away, only to be remembered as _that time before_ _things got better_.

Though as different as the day starts, Aasim has a routine to keep. But, for a change, he doesn’t feel quite so guilty for leaving Clem there. She can be happy now. Maybe not completely, but soon he feels like he won’t have to leave without her at all.

 

\-----

 

For the following two weeks, Aasim watched as Clementine gained confidence in walking again. He spent only the first few evenings adjusting the padded area to fit her stump better and adding the vertical straps. And during that time, Clem was too exhausted to celebrate what a victory the whole thing was.

Not that he blamed her. It can’t be easy to relearn something so essential. Plus she was relearning while supporting herself on a wooden pylon. There was only so much he could do to make it more comfortable. Stubborn girl that she is, she’d probably stay quiet and continue to hobble along until her full leg completely gave out. And he couldn’t have that.

He even resorted to pinkie promising with AJ that they’d both keep an eye on her. It was a little silly, but the kid took his duty seriously.

Everyone seemed to be on the same page in that regard, making sure she rested and offering a hand when she needed it. And as the days passed, she needed less support. By the second week she could get by with her hand on AJ’s shoulder, or with one of her crutches to lean against if she was standing in place for too long.

Each day she seemed to move with lighter steps. Her voice too became brighter; she laughed more and spoke more optimistically about _when_ she was going to be able to stretch her legs outside of the walls. She clung close by to Violet on most days, which did them both quite a bit of good. All the doubtful and self-deprecating phrases tapered off and were lost under much more pleasant conversations.

All in all, everything was beginning to feel damned close to normal. Or at least, it’s on its way to being normal again.

Aasim tries to remind himself that he should be happy with normal. He has lived this long without anything more, and having something special meant he could lose it in a second. That might well break him completely.

_Normal is good enough._ He writes those words on the first line of his notebook before flipping the cover closed. The mornings aren’t his favourite time to make entries, yet the single sentence feels too important for him to not jot it down the moment it occurs to him.

“What are you writing?” The voice of Clementine over his shoulder causes Aasim to reflexively slide the closed book from the picnic table and onto his lap.

“Just a reminder,” he answers quickly. He _really_ needs to stop zoning out the second he has a pencil in his hand. “I see the leg is working fine – didn’t hear you walking up.”

She smiles and gently rocks her weight between her real and prosthetic leg. “Getting there.” For a moment, Aasim sees Clementine’s focus shift from him over to the neighbouring table. Louis, Violet, and AJ are sitting there and being far too quiet for Aasim’s liking. “I was actually hoping to get outside of the walls today,” she looks almost bashful as she speaks, “if you don’t mind.”

_Why the hell would I mind?_ It takes immeasurable self-restraint not to blurt out the words. But something about this doesn’t feel right – and he thinks it’s the sidelong glances the other table seems to be sending in his direction. “It’s Louis’ turn to go hunting, isn’t it?”

“It is, but AJ wants to go fishing with Violet, and I’d feel better if Louis was keeping an eye on both of them.”

_Something is definitely wrong_ , while he can’t deny the logic of what she’s saying, each word sounds rehearsed. But then what if it isn’t?

_Then you’re being an ass_ , his brain fills in the blank hastily. He shouldn’t be looking for faults here. She’s offering him what he’s wanted for weeks, he should be thankful. Instead there’s a pit in his stomach.

And now Clem is staring at him, waiting for a response... and he doesn’t like how nervous that makes him feel. “If you want. And if you feel like you can.”

“Of course I can,” she says with reinvigorated certainty, “so long as you don’t mind me doing the shooting. I’m a good shot, remember?”

“Well everyone looks good compared to Louis,” he jokes. It’s mostly a joke, anyway.

“Excuse me? I’m pretty sure I’ve brought in just as many rabbits as you have when we’ve been hunting,” Clem plants a hand on her hip before she grins at him. “How about a bet?”

“A bet?” _This is new_... he knows she’s not above some good natured banter, but bets and challenges were more of a Marlon, Louis, and Violet thing. And half those bets ended up with the loser doing something humiliating or taking on more chores.

“We go hunting, and whoever brings in the most game wins... and the loser has to do three things for the winner.”

“Define _things_.” Some of Louis and Marlon’s humiliations were scarring enough just to witness, and Aasim doesn’t fancy being a part of those sort of games.

The girl just shrugs. “Nothing awful. Besides, if you’re so sure you’re a better archer than me then you don’t have anything to worry about.”

It feels childish to be suckered into her competition, but if it brings in more game then he can’t see the harm. Plus, he doesn’t doubt his own skill with a bow. “You’re on.”

 

\-----

 

Aasim and Clementine walk through the forest in silence. Her left hand is curled into the crook of his right elbow and their steps are marginally slower so she doesn’t stumble on the uneven ground. If not for the slighter slower pace, he’d say they had only been out here a few days ago.

 

Just having her present seems to make the autumn stained leaves look brighter. He can hear the breeze and the faint scurrying that is regularly drowned out by Louis or Willy chattering.

Aasim is already planning out how he’ll write out today’s events. He might even spoil himself and start a fresh book so he doesn’t have to flip past all the nasty stuff that is scrawled across his current journal. Maybe he’ll be able to fill his new one up with only better things.

Though he might be getting ahead of himself. He has a bet to win first. And some sort of reward to get... he’s not sure what in the hell he even wants. It’s something he feels like he can decide on once he gets there.

As they slowly approach the traps, Aasim can already spot a few of the snares have been sprung, though from the look of things without any animals to speak of. Clem’s grip slips away as she takes careful steps away from his side. “The traps don’t count anyway,” she says as the pair of them begin the task of resetting everything.

Once all the traps are reset, Aasim draws his bow in preparation for the rabbit hunt. “So, how are we doing this?”

Clementine scans the area around them before speaking. “The most rabbits before we go back. I’ll go east and you go north?”

Aasim nods. His brain tells him to leave things at that, but his mouth moves faster. “Don’t go too far, alright?”

She just lets out a single laugh and rolls her eyes at him. “You sound like me talking to AJ. I’ll be careful,” she gives him the slightest bit of reassurance before turning and taking slow steps eastwards into the scrubby underbrush.

_Great_ , his brain mocks him, _you’ve turned into Clem’s keeper_. That’s not what he wants to be...

He stops that train of thought before it crashes through his attempts to keep things normal. Losing what he has now... he can’t risk that. In his head, it’s better to just not think about it at all.

_Just catch the rabbits_.

It takes quite a bit of effort to walk northward; but he needs to leave those thoughts on the ground there. They’ll do nothing for his focus at the moment.

Instead he busies himself by stalking through the area, searching for the disturbed vegetation left by the school’s future dinner. It isn’t as easy as the partnered method of hunting the critters, but he and Clem should be having the same issues in that regard.

Unfortunately for Clem, she isn’t as familiar with where the rabbit burrows are in the area... and unfortunately for Aasim, he knows that there are more of them in her direction than his.

It’s a good opportunity for them both to test their skills.

...

After nearly an hour, Aasim has only managed to catch a pair of rabbits. The first one was foolish enough to hop out into the open while he was nearby, and the second he was lucky enough to spot hiding in the shrubbery.

Even though he could view this as a 100% catch rate, it hardly makes him feel better when his goal was to catch the most.

 As far as he’s concerned, hunting without someone else to scare the rabbits in the right direction is just a test of patience. And he’s throwing in the towel. For all he knows, he may well have caught the only two animals in the forest today.

“Clementine!” Aasim calls out while he slings his bow across his back and flips his catch over his shoulder. “Time’s up.”

Somewhere in the distance, he can hear the girl tut her tongue in annoyance. “Yeah, I’m coming,” Clem sighs. Clearly she hasn’t had any more luck than Aasim in this challenge.

When she stumbles back into the clearing, she keeps her focus towards the ground, and her booted foot kicks up dirt as she moves. Overall, she looks less than pleased with herself. Which is absolute nonsense since she’s carrying an equal amount of rabbits as Aasim.

“It seems we’re on the same level,” he bounces the animals on his shoulder as he talks, “four should be more than enough with the fish. Omar’s going to be happy.”

He hoped that would lift her spirit, but Clementine still seems perturbed. _Does winning the bet really mean that much to her?_ While he likes to win as much as the next person, a tie isn’t something to be upset over. Especially when it’s over something as difficult as rabbit shooting without someone to herd them out of hiding.

_Maybe it’s not about winning_. Aasim scans the rabbits in Clementine’s hand and makes a snap decision that he hopes he won’t regret.

“Well, shit. It looks like your two are bigger,” Clem finally lifts her gaze and raises a quizzical eyebrow. “Guess I lost this one.”

Her honeyed eyes search his features, like she might be able to pinpoint why he was taking the loss willingly. “You don’t have to do that,” she says sincerely, “just because of... my leg-“

“It’s got nothing to do with your leg.”

“-we both won and lost.”

Aasim shrugs at her. “Then we both owe each other favours.”

That seems to be the magic phrase and suddenly Clem doesn’t seem quite so forlorn. “I guess we do.” She holds out her rabbits and Aasim adds them to the weighty pile on his shoulder. After a quick scan of the traps in the area, she returns her grip to his elbow as they start to walk the uneven track home.

 “So, what favours do I owe you?” Aasim asks as they walk, a little wary of the quick turnaround.

“Two truths and a dare,” she responds far quicker than the boy is comfortable with. Clearly she has put a lot of thought into this.

“You’ve been hanging around Louis too much.”

Clementine laughs before going quiet. As the school gate becomes visible in the distance, she tugs on his arm and stops his footsteps. “Wait... can we do this now?”

“Sure?” He’s not really sure why it matters, but she evidently thinks it does.

She pulls her lip between her teeth for a moment before she speaks. “Why do you hide your journals?”

That’s a far bigger question than she realises – because there isn’t one umbrella answer. He likes his privacy. He writes his own mistakes so he’ll remember them – and he doesn’t need everyone else reading them. And most importantly he unloads all the scattered thoughts he has onto the pages. Those things are too revealing to want to share. “I don’t want people reading my thoughts without me knowing.” It’s the most concise way he can put it. “If you want to know what’s in them you can just ask.”

“Am I in them?”

Aasim can feel heat burn in his face. He’s not supposed to get flustered like this. _God, you’re a fucking_ _idiot_ , he tries to scold himself for even planting that idea in her head. He wants to lie; he _really_ wants to tell her that no, he’s never mentioned her. But every page for the past few weeks has been about her. About her progress, about how much he obsessed over making her prosthetic leg, about how he missed seeing her happy. “I-... everyone’s in there. So, yeah, you’re in there too,” he really wishes he had a free hand to scratch at the sudden uncomfortableness in the back of his neck.

But he has trouble even attempting to meet her eyes, far less shaking off her grip on him. This isn’t the _normal_ thing that he has been trying to keep in place. No, this is dangerously close to that tipping point where she could potentially crush the special thing he has been keeping hidden away – safely stored in his books and his head where he can marvel at how wonderful it _could_ be in a better world.

Clementine’s fingers tug on his sleeve, but he still refuses to look at her face. “Aasim?” She prods and all he can do is nod his head in acknowledgement. “I don’t mind being in your books, it’s fine,” her voice is gentle, but his brain stubbornly refuses to believe her. The silence causes Clem to grip around the boy’s arm more tightly. “Aasim, close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes. You still owe me a dare.”

He lets out a rough breath through his nose before complying. Behind the darkness of his eyelids, he feels Clementine’s grip on his arm shift from around his elbow to his shoulder. His brain threatens to short circuit completely when her weight shifts against him. A feather light touch graces the corner of his mouth.

All of his senses go into overdrive. The skin on his face tingles from the soft touch. He can smell the traces of crushed grass on her clothes. His heartbeat thumps loudly in his ears – deafening and pulsing in the blackness of his closed eyes.

Clementine’s presence pulls away but her hand remains on his shoulder. And thank god for that anchor, because the boy briefly loses his sense of where he is and what is actually happening. Surely he’ll open his eyes and see the metal framework of his bunk bed.

But no, he opens his eyes too look down at the girl in front of him. A dusting of colour marks her cheeks as her eyes bore into him. “I- uh...” Aasim’s brain can’t seem to find any words fast enough for his mouth. “What was... What was that?” It’s a stupid question, he knows _what_ that was, but _why?_ He can’t handle his foundations being rattled so thoroughly in one quick swoop.

“Is that one of your questions?” Clementine laughs almost nervously.

“Uh, sure. Yes.”

“Your a good person, Aasim,” she starts before lifting her left leg in demonstration, “and I’m not just talking about this. Is it so weird that for me to say that _maybe_ I like you.”

_Yes, yes it is._ That’s not how things work – wearing his heart on his sleeve means it gets scuffed and battered every day. Yet she can somehow just do that, can feel and show without the same trepidation he has. His mind wanders back to their silly little game of truth or dare, back before the whole Delta fiasco. That stupid game of Flip, Marry, Kill... Was that all real to her? _Does that mean she wants to flip Ruby?_

“Could you... say something? Please?”

He really wants to, but it’s like all his concerns are being thrown at him at once. Insecure thoughts in his head want things to stay safe and the same, while his feelings scream at him to take a leap and risk the fall. Her words already have him propelling for the cliff’s edge anyway, surely now is the best time to suck it up and _try_.

Aasim swallows the growing lump in his throat. “Your, uh... I like you too.” There’s so much more that he wishes he could vocalise. The fact that he envies her strength, that he can’t stand the idea of her being anything but happy, and how grateful he is that she’s still here. Clementine’s seen all of the schoolkids at their worst, and still she stuck around – she dragged his sorry ass off that boat and unthinkably stayed behind while the rest of them fled. He couldn’t ask for anyone better to stand beside him. “I-I think you should read my journals...”

That brilliant smile of her returns, and it makes Aasim feel like even more of an idiot for being so scared to express any of his feelings for her. Though, judging from her self confidence right now, he gets the feeling that she has seen right through to those feelings for a while.

“We should head back,” he clears his throat and tries to banish the heat from his face, “you know, before AJ sends out a search party.” He offers her his arm but she bypasses his elbow to grip his hand. _Fuck,_ he’s never going to get the blush off his cheeks at this rate. “Yeah, ok,” the words are far higher pitch than he’s comfortable with.

Clementine lets out a laugh, and it makes Aasim’s knees feel weak.

He has no idea how she can do that.

As they approach the gate Louis whistles loudly from the lookout tower. “I told you Aasim was smitten,” the boy yells loud enough for Aasim’s hair to bristle, “Willy, you owe me your pillows!”

“What the fuck...”

Clementine nervously chuckles beside him. “This may have been Louis’ idea,” she admits. And that would really explain a lot. Everything from the bet down to Clem choosing the area in the hunting spot where the most burrows are.

Aasim takes a slow breath. He can’t deny being happy with the results of his meddling – but still... “I think I may need to smother him with those pillows.”


	6. Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a few months after “The Ranch Incident” but prior to the start of The Final Season. AJ is still trying to learn the rules while travelling on the road with Clementine. Things aren’t perfect, and the weather doesn’t feel like making things easy for them. Mostly a low intensity exploration of Clementine from AJ’s perspective, because kids think weird– especially when their caregiver is trying to prepare them for surviving the apocalypse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written using the November Drabble prompts provided by stop_breaking_my_heart_telltale on their Tumblr. It is a very loose combination of prompts 1 through 6 since I suck at being concise and keeping to a drabble format, and I’m also a dingbat who has issues with being too subtle/blunt with prompts.
> 
> Prompts = [Scar, Knife, “You make me laugh”, Gift, Nightmare, Sick in bed]

AJ patters around in the dimly lit room, only the smallest bit of evening light breaking through the clouds. Heavy rainfall pelts the partially collapsed roof above him. Slow streams of raindrops follow the bowing ceiling, little waterfalls soaking the already water damaged floorboards. The room is L-shaped with just the small alcove around the corner being raised above ground level, lifting up the height of a single stair.

Each step through the sunken living area squishes more water through AJ’s shoes and into his socks. It doesn’t help that everything below his knees is still coated in mud from outside. It’s gross and squelchy. He tries to stand in the dry patches, yet there isn’t really anywhere that isn’t covered in water.

AJ takes slow steps over to the somewhat dry area, careful to not let his feet slip out from beneath him. A streak of muddy water follows him like an inky trail throughout the dilapidated house.

The rubber of his shoes lets out an awful squeak as he _finally_ has something marginally dry to walk on. There are two doorways connected to the little space around him – one still has a door attached while the other is completely open. AJ tightens his grip on the metal weapon in his hands as he rounds the corner into the open room.

He brandishes the little stabber in front of him, waving the sharp tip like it might deter any monsters by simply pointing at them. But when he looks he only sees old fixtures and broken tiles, no space for anything to hide. “Bathroom,” he mutters quietly to himself as he lowers the knife.

“ _AJ_.”

He leaves the bathroom behind, turning back towards the second doorway. Even though the wood is heavily swollen and discoloured, the door remains on its hinges. The handle is metal and looks gritty. He can’t help but wonder if the misshapen door will even still open. He reaches for the handle–

“ _Don’t_ touch,” Clementine firmly grabs AJ’s hand before he can make contact and pulls him back.

AJ knows that tone of voice, he’s done something against the rules. Something particularly bad if Clem magically appears to physically stop him, especially when she said she was searching for supplies in the garage. But then he remembers her instructions, to wait in the front room – he wanted to get out of the water.

His left hand returns to his side. “Don’t touch,” he repeats with a nod. He had just wanted to check what was behind the door, but he knows better than to argue over something like this.

“You can’t just wander off, you have to wait for me, AJ. Remember.”

“I’m trying.” He really is, but there’s so much to remember and also stuff he has to learn to forget. Sometimes he has to be brave and go places where Clementine can’t reach, but sometimes that’s Clem’s job and he has to stay back. It just gets mixed up in his head if he stops paying attention.

Clementine pulls her own knife from her pocket before placing a hand on AJ’s shoulder. “I know you are.” Gently, she guides him to stand behind her before she reaches for the handle of the door in front of the pair.

AJ peers around her legs as she stays very still with her hand poised to open the door. _Listening_ ; AJ tries to listen too, but the sound of the rainfall is all her can hear. Clem makes the decision to turn the handle and gives the old door a solid shove. It creaks open and she slowly steps inside. It’s dark, too dark for AJ’s eyes to adjust quickly. Nothing but shadows and the vague outlines of _things_. He stares until he’s sure that the dark blots aren’t moving. Something not alive, and not the dead things either.

He lifts his knife upwards again, prepared to stab at anything that might be trying to trick him. It’s happened before, and he doesn’t want one of the hiding ones to jump out again.

Clementine doesn’t seem nearly as concerned. Each movement she makes seems to have a purpose. He watches as Clementine shuffles further into the inky blackness, turning and checking all the dark corners. Listening, watching, checking... She doesn’t need to be reminded what to do, she just _does_.

That’s how AJ wants to be, how he _has_ to be. He tries to remember all the rules.

_Don’t go alone_ , that’s why he’s not still in the car – even if he wanted to stay behind where things felt familiar. It’s also why he has to walk in the ankle deep water and be stuck with icky socks, and why he has to remember to wait for Clem before opening doors.

The rule about new places... _Look first?_ He can never quite remember, but that’s why Clem has to walk ahead. She remembers the rules and is better at looking than he is. Supplies, monsters, doors... nothing hides from her. At least not for long; she finds them all eventually.

“It’s clear,” Clem lets out a held breath and ushers for AJ to follow her.

While his steps are tentative, double checking even though he believes Clem’s word, she moves around normally. He always finds it interesting how Clem just knows things. They’ve never been here before, but still she finds everything she’s looking for. She moves to the far end of the room and pulls a string of dirty plastic slats aside, what little daylight is peeking through the rainstorm pours inside through the miraculously still-intact window.

“Bedroom,” AJ mutters upon seeing the lightly illuminated room around him. An old dresser butts up against one wall with an old bed frame sitting against the opposite corner. The painted metal is peeling back and shows off a growing field of rust, small flakes litter the heavily flattened mattress. Several drawers hang from the dresser like someone took items out in a hurry and didn’t stick around to clean up. “Are we safe here?”

“For now,” Clementine speaks over her shoulder, still busily looking through the fogged window. “At least until the rain passes.”

“Do you think someone’s coming back?”

“No,” she starts to remove her backpack, placing it onto the floor and rolling out her shoulders. “Nobody’s been here for a while, and most people won’t be walking around outside in this,” she gestures through the window. After a steadying breath she crouches to dig through their supplies.

AJ continues to scan the room. It’s not like the ranch. All wood and plaster that has warped over the years and looks like it might topple at any moment like the roof in the front room. He might not like sleeping in the car either, but it feels better than this. The car has never felt like it was going to crunch down on him if there was a strong breeze.

But now the car was stuck on the road outside, at the end of the long driveway to this half-broken house. Clem had tried to drive through what looked like a shallow dip in the road. Unfortunately, the stupid weather had turned the old dirt roads into a slurry of mud and broken branches – the car could do nothing but spin its tyres while more debris built up around them as the water level slowly rose towards the top of the car’s wheels. The occasional monster got pulled off its feet and carried along with the flooding rush, disappearing beneath the water like some hidden trap waiting to spring.

Clem made the call that they needed to leave before it got worse.

The whole situation had been terrifying for AJ. Being carried by Clem was the only thing that protected him from joining the monsters being swept away. Tumbling down the freshly made river into some lonely place far away. Clem clung so tightly to him that it hurt, but he didn’t dare tell her to let go.

“Goofball?” Clementine breaks the boy out of his thoughts. She’s holding spare clothes in her outstretched hand. “Do you want me to help you?”

“I’m ok,” he says quickly. Too quickly judging by the quirking of Clementine’s eyebrows. He grabs the clothes from out of her hands and pulls them against his chest.

“It’s going to be fine,” she reassures him. “Once the rain stops we can go back to the car. We might have to dig it out, but we can’t do that now.” Her fingers thread through his fuzzy hair, Clementine’s gentle touch seems to pull the worries out of his head. “We’ll make this place safe and get some sleep.”

AJ nods. He tries to believe her. It’s better to believe her.

 

\-----

 

The pair settled in for the night, finding what little comfort they could from the enclosed walls around them. Clem had barricaded the door with the old dresser and returned the plastic shade to the window. They were dropped into the dark, the only light coming from the lighter that Clem carried.

_Nothing can sneak up on us_ , she said in confidence before lying beside him and distinguishing the last fragment of sight. It did make him feel safer when she was there, even in the dark and rain. It didn’t take long for his tired body to drift off to sleep.

...

He dreams of the room, too small and dark for him to move. His own breath condenses on the wall in front of him, the moisture bouncing back onto his face with how close he is to the surface.

If he could turn around then he knows that it would be better, that there will be light and air to stop the suffocating feeling. But he still can’t open the door, there’s no way to get out from the inside. So he doesn’t try to turn around, because then he’d have to see what’s outside the room. He doesn’t want that.

Hearing it is bad enough. Footsteps echo from outside, darting in every direction at once. It hurts his head, because he knows that soon all those sounds will stop at once. The quiet is worse than the noise.

The quiet meant that they were all gone – and that’s not right.

Who will open the door if there is no one left? Is he just going to have to sit there forever? Stuck in the dark. Stuck completely alone and with nobody even knowing he’s there.

The walls close in, squeezing against his bones until he can feel the restriction when he breathes. His shoulders and ribs crunching down smaller until there isn’t even enough room to twitch.

With a start his eyes shoot open. At first he thinks he’s still asleep since he continues to see only the darkness and the pressure on his chest doesn’t disappear. Something constricts his chest and it’s only when he hears human noises that he starts to panic.

“Clem-!” He forces the words out while trying to wriggle out of the tight hold against him. His nails find exposed skin and in an instant all the pressure vanishes. The boy heaves himself away from the presence, falling flat onto the floor in the process. He doesn’t care that it hurts, he just tries to get away from the situation.

AJ wants his knife, Clem’s lighter, he’d even settle for a sharp stick at the moment.

There’s a flick of metal and a glow of light burns AJ’s dark-accustomed eyes. Everything shines like fire through his watery vision. Rapidly blinking dissolves the glare but leaves him with the troubling sight of a wide-eyed Clementine staring back at him.

It was no monster grabbing for him, but somehow this feels worse. The lighter in Clem’s hand casts drastic shadows across her face. She looks like the world has crumbled away beneath her – dead behind the eyes in a way that he has never seen before. To AJ it looks like she may be violently sick or cry.

Suddenly his fear spikes, but for very different reasons than before. Monsters are one thing, something haunting Clem to the point of tears? That’s something else.

“C-Clem?” he stutters out.

She doesn’t respond, her eyes don’t seem to focus on him at all.

He doesn’t know the rules for this one. If things are scary then they are _both_ supposed to run – but this isn’t the same.

“Clem?” AJ repeats as he stands up from the floor. If there isn’t a rule, then he’s just going to have to make one. _Stop Clem from hurting_. Granted, it’s more of a goal than a rule, but it seems like something important to remember.

He steps back over to the side of the bed, though Clem still looks as if her eyes aren’t seeing him. Standing closer he can see how the hand holding her lighter quivers and shakes all the shadows in the room. It paints her features in a sickly light; deepening the grey circles under her eyes and washing her skin out far too pale. Gently, he reaches out to hold her hand steady.

That seems to be the trigger that breaks the spell consuming her. “I’m ok... I’m ok.”

This time he doesn’t believe her. Breathing the way she is definitely isn’t ok. “No,” he says firmly. Clem shoots him a questioning look that almost makes him want to back down. _Almost_.  “Let me help.”

In spite of his confident words, AJ has no idea how he’s supposed to help. He leans forward and tries his best to brush his fingers through her hair like she does for him... it doesn’t go very well. Clem doesn’t move and mostly just looks confused.

“I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do,” he admits. He keeps trying to pull the bad stuff out of Clem’s head, but his nails just get caught. How does she make it feel so nice when she does it?

After an awkward amount of silence, Clem lets out a single airy laugh. “You’re a sweet boy, Goofball.” She reaches up to AJ’s hand and gives it a firm squeeze before pulling it away.

_Maybe it did work_ , he questions as she shuffles around on the bed until she’s sitting on the ledge. Part of her seems a little brighter, even if her skin still seems washed out. She taps the mattress beside her and AJ jumps up to join her.

“I had a bad dream, like what you get sometimes.”

AJ looks over to her, it doesn’t seem right to him. Those are _his_ problems, not _Clem_ problems. Clem is too good to have nightmares or be afraid.

“Some things just don’t go away easy...” As if to punctuate that thought, she lets the lighter snap closed, dropping the pair back into the dark. AJ doesn’t like the dark, Clem knows that. He hears a quit _it’s ok_ before he feels her hand circle his arm. She guides his hand over to her other arm, placing his little fingers onto the little divots that mark her skin. It takes him a moment to remember about the long scar that runs across her forearm. He had found it scary at first, but it isn’t anymore.

“Do you remember the story?” Clementine asks.

“About the dog?”

“That story, but before the dog.”

“You were camping and your friend went off alone. They broke the rules and bad stuff happened.”Clem is quiet and for a while AJ thinks that maybe he has remembered the story wrong.

“I fell in the river. It was scary, being dragged away and not being able to stop it. I forget about that stuff sometimes, but outside before... I guess I remembered again. Does that make sense to you?”

“Yeah...”

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I wasn’t scared,” he lies.

Clem laughs lightly beside him, “of course not, you’re a brave boy.”

 

\-----

 

AJ doesn’t remember falling to sleep again, but the next time he opens his eyes it’s morning. Lines of light paint the floor beside him and wash away the memory of how dark and dreadful the room looked last night.

He scans the room and finds himself alone. Clem’s backup still sits upon the floor, her hat sitting on top like a marker – a little reminder to him that she hasn’t gone far. Because she wouldn’t leave that behind anymore than she’d leave him.

He swings his legs off the bed, letting his bare feet carry him through the house to find her. The floor is still tacky, and the air feels thick and humid now that the sun has broken through the previous days rain.

 It doesn’t take AJ long to guess where Clementine went. He can hear things moving across the cement flooring in the garage.

AJ peers into the open garage doorway. Sure enough, Clem’s there, her back facing him as she shuffles through all sorts of old stuff. The room has been rearranged since he last saw it. Weirdly, it’s a whole lot cleaner now. The overturned storage crates have been righted and stacked against the far wall, and an alley of floor space has been cleaned out of all the built up grime. He... really doesn’t get why Clem would bother. There was a lot of junk here before, and it must have taken her hours to tidy. “Clem?”

She turns around, a series of cups and small containers being held against her chest. “Morning, Goofball,” she smiles but AJ can still see the dark patches under her eyes. She doesn’t stop moving things, placing the items onto the tops of the stacked crates.

“What are you doing?”

Clementine hums lightly as she wanders back over to him. “I was thinking about things. Like how big you’re getting,” she taps the top of his head with her finger, “and how I need to teach you something important.”

AJ can’t help but groan hearing that. The last time she said that he had to learn how to pull out his own splinters and what _stupid_ stinging medicine he had to put on it. That teaching moment sucked.

“Don’t be like that,” she laughs. “You see those?” Clementine gestures to the items she just placed on top of the junk stacks, “if they were something scary, then we’d be in trouble. There’s a lot of them, and only two of us. I’m going to teach you how to get rid of them.” One of her hands disappears into the interior pocket of her jacket, and she pulls out the little pistol that she always has but that he has _never_ been allowed to touch it. She holds it out to him, handle first. “It’s time I make up for the time I missed.”

AJ looks at the handle, then back to Clem’s face. Is she serious? They only have the one gun and it’s _hers_. There was always a reason why he couldn’t touch it – she didn’t want it to break, it’s dangerous if he doesn’t know how to use it, it makes more sense for her to keep it close, and finally that they didn’t have enough bullets left to rely on it. He can’t help but be unsure of it now. “I can use it?”

“You can _have_ it, AJ. But you have to let me show you. Do you want that?”

Tentatively, AJ grabs the handle. It’s heavier than he thought it would be and he can’t quite find a comfortable way to hold it. He’s watched Clem use the gun before and he starts to fiddle with the bullet cylinder until it flicks away from the frame. Spinning the cylinder, he sees that there’s no bullets inside.

Clem lets out an approving huff. “Smart boy. Come on, let me show you.”


	7. A Little Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in Ericson’s Boarding school a few years before The Final Season’s timeline. A small, feathery guest interrupts an otherwise quiet night. Aasim’s night watch takes a turn for the unexpected when a certain girl offers to help him with the situation. An early catalyst for Aasim’s crush on Ruby, even if it’s completely one-sided.
> 
> (This chapter is written using the November Drabble prompts provided by stop_breaking_my_heart_telltale on their Tumblr. It is a loose combination of prompts 7 through 13.) 
> 
> Prompts = [Hunting, Walkers, Dancing/Singing, Death, Escape, Unrequited love, Hug]

Aasim pulls back the string, drawing the fletching back by his cheek before letting the arrow fly. It’s too dark for him to actually see the arrow in flight or the point of impact – but the walkers don’t drop like that unless they’re down for good.

That’s the fourth one he’s downed tonight.

Not that it really matters. The lookout perch lets him see the ones way too far off to be a concern. They’ll probably just wander through the forest and be gone by morning, or at worst they’ll end up stuck against the gate. They might scare the smaller ones, but he and the older kids could deal with them before they had a chance to see them.

Still, they are good target practice to help him with hunting, and they make for good boredom breakers on night watch.

Though night watch too is basically just a formality at this point. There’s no one out there. No one alive. Even if there is, Rosie won’t let them nearby without barking everyone awake.

The lookout perch is just a nicer place to spend the evenings than lying in his bed, pretending that maybe he’ll fall back to sleep. He won’t. The bad dreams are back, because they always are around this time of year. The time of year when the walkers first showed up... when his parents were supposed to come pick him up. Honestly, he’s not sure anymore if the other kids remember when it happened – but he had been counting down the days for weeks, and he never got to cross out the final few days.

Being inside makes that feeling worse. Looking at the walls and seeing the faded outline where his calendar used to be affixed to the wall. Out here he can at least feel the breeze and hear the bugs and birds. It’s not much, but he likes it.

He sits back down on the perch, resting his bow across his lap. Taking a deep breath of the cool air relaxes his posture into a slump. If things continue to be quiet then he could probably fall asleep right here, in a place where the bad dreams don’t know where to find him.

No, he won’t risk it. There will be one hell of a lecture if anyone else found out. He volunteered for this, and he can hardly agree to the task and sleep through it without some sort of repercussion. Still, his eyelids drift closed as the night air settles over him.

The quiet is instantly broken by a loud bang, followed by Rosie’s startled growls. Aasim moves without thinking, scooting backwards and throwing himself down the ladder and back behind the safety of the wall.

A small part of him thinks that he must have drifted off and imagined the strange sound. It didn’t particularly sound like a gunshot, more like someone throwing a brick against a wall. There’s no way he’s taking that chance, though. _He’s_ on night watch; it’s his duty to check these things.

It seemed to him like the noise had come from somewhere behind him... which only left him with all of the school buildings to check. Aasim sees Rosie still chained up outside of the admin building. What’s puzzling is that she seems to be barking at something above her.

_That’s a good enough place to start_. “Good girl,” he calls out to Rosie as he walks over to the admin building. Her big eyes stare into him as he gets closer, clearly pleased to be praised. Giving her quick ear scratches stops her barking, yet she continues to grumble while he moves away.

Aasim remains quiet as she checks each of the rooms in turn. The lower floor is no different to yesterday. The upstairs landing is similarly quiet – but if he trusts Rosie’s ears, he needs to check the headmaster’s office. _Hopefully Marlon didn’t fall asleep at his desk again..._

 Just to be safe, he knocks lightly on the door. The last thing he wants is for Marlon to jump him as soon as he rounds the corner. He eases the door open and sees the room is empty. Rosie starts barking again and Aasim moves to the room’s balcony to tell her to be quiet.

Then he sees it. The vague silhouette on  one of the glass panels to the balcony door. It lights up in the moonlight, almost like dust or oil in a fuzzy half-crescent. At least now he knows he and Rosie aren’t sharing the same hallucination – something definitely hit there and let out that intense bang. And whatever it is got really unlucky to hit one of the few panels that is still intact.

Through the door he can see what started this whole ordeal. A small ball of greyish feathers with piercing yellow eyes. It’s hunched and holding its wings away from its body, swaying ever so slightly on its feet. Not once does it take its gaze away from the equally staring boy. He’s no expert on birds, but he knows an owl when he sees one. Even if this little thing seems far smaller than what he would picture as a _normal_ owl.

It claps its beak at Aasim as he eases the door open, and this starts an even louder alarm from Rosie. Over all the noise he can hear the voices of some of the other kids, Marlon being the loudest as he tries to calm his dog. The snapping owl gets increasingly agitated, but remains stationary. Aasim isn’t sure if the thing could fly off even if it tried, what with the slouched way it holds itself. The poor thing looks more likely to topple over than to walk.

_What’s that thing about birds? Don’t touch the babies?_ It’s been so long since he’s had to worry about anything like this. _Is it even a baby?_ He doesn’t know. It continues to snap, and Aasim thinks that putting his bare fingers near the little thing would be a painful mistake anyway. A better rule would be _don’t touch snapping little monsters._

“It’s in shock,” Ruby’s voice within the headmaster’s office startles him. He looks over his shoulder to see the girl removing her jacket and curling the material around her hands. “Move over, Sug’.”

Aasim doesn’t really have much choice in the matter, Ruby is coming into his space whether he likes it or not. Brushing passed his side, she scoops up the little bird without hesitation.

“Poor little guy,” she mutters while looking the creature over. Aasim can’t help but stare. That _little guy_ is trying to pry Ruby’s fingers off through the coat. Still, she looks almost happy to see it – like she is pleased to be able to help, even if the bird doesn’t realise it needs it.

It has no idea how lucky it is. Half of the other kids would probably punt the little fuzz ball the second it tried to bite.

“Don’t stand there starin’, make yourself useful and see if we can find a safe spot for our little friend here.”

“Uh, yeah. Ok.” He’s not really sure what he’s just agreed to, but Ruby has clearly taken the reins on this.

 

\-----

 

_Something safe, warm, and dark_. That was all the information Ruby gave Aasim before sending him off into the basement. It seemed a little ridiculous, walking around his sleepy schoolmates as they wandered back to their rooms. Surely he and Ruby should have done the same, shrugging off the weird occurrence for what it was – a weird happenstance that could be dealt with in the morning.

_I’m not going back to bed anyway_ , he tries to justify why he doesn’t just turn around. Though he imagines Ruby is waiting for him now... possibly even standing at the top of the stairs to make sure he follows through.

Aasim walks through the narrow halls made from numerous stacks of old school supplies. Desks, text books, board games, and even the occasional bit of contraband found itself amongst the other bits of abandoned gear. There is no reason for him to come down here normally – they had all picked the basement clean of anything useful ages ago. Most of the items that they might need on a day-to-day basis got moved into the dorms or admin building proper.

He places his blaring flashlight atop of one of the shelves behind him before he moves to pick up the desks one by one. Slowly he clears his way to the far corner of the room. The dark space is where the cleaning and school maintenance supplies used to be – things like branch cutters, a manual lawn mower, tarps, and other general supplies that the groundskeeper stored away.

Most of those things have been moved, are long gone, broken or in permanent use somewhere else. What he’s hoping for is something even more unlikely. He remembers one of the older kids had a pet mouse before he left the school – back before things went sour. The odds that the cage is somehow still here are low, though it would be a perfect solution.

Finally he moves the last desk, opening up a passage further into the basement. He grabs his flashlight and shines it into the area before him. It doesn’t make the room feel much brighter, giving just enough light to make all the shadows feel longer and darker as it catches on every sharp angle.

Stepping through the gaps, he approaches the rusted storage shelf in the farthest corner. The upper surfaces are mostly bare, holding a thin layer of claggy dust. Only the bottom two shelves still have anything on them. Though given the low amount still left, he has a sneaking suspicion that he won’t find what he’s looking for.

Chances are he’s going to have to compromise on this and try to throw something together.

_Do I need sawdust?_ He runs through the items he’s going to need to hunt down – some sort of frame, some wire, bedding material, some bowls, and a towel if he could find one. But of course those things aren’t neatly labelled and prepared for him; he has to compromise if he wants this to come together. _Sawdust might work for bedding..._

He hefts the plastic bag of sawdust from off the shelf. The plastic has deteriorated over the years, and Aasim is just grateful that it doesn’t split the second it hits the floor.

Unfortunately, the only other thing he can find on his list is wire – an old sheet of chicken wire and a half-used spool of soft wire. He settles on a chair with a broken backrest to substitute for the frame. It means he’ll have to construct the actual caging, but he can handle that. As for the towel...   _one of my old shirts?_ They don’t really fit him anymore anyway.

 He stacks what he has into a pile that he lifts onto his shoulder, being careful to not be too rough with the fragile plastic of the sawdust bag.

_Now. To Ruby’s room._

 

\-----

 

  _Ruby’s room is_... he doesn’t know the word. _Different, maybe?_ Though that isn’t quite right either.

It has the same set up as his room; double bunk beds, a desk, a dresser, and a bookshelf. But her shelves are more filled with books and containers, little mementos of all varieties in the spare spaces. She has some cracked plates on her bookshelf and desk with candles lit on top. It seems like she actually tries to keep everything dusted and cleaned as well. Orderly, but not sterile and unlived in. So he’s not sure why he feels so out of place.

Maybe she just cares more about her space than he does, and knowing that is strange.

Aasim feels almost bad dragging his disorganised pile of building materials and tools into her room. He sets everything up in the empty space on the floor and sits beside it while trying to keep the discomfort off his face.

Ruby seems oblivious to his internal dilemma, she sits on her bed with her attention fully absorbed on the little owl. The bird remains bundled up in her coat and resting on her lap. It still looks somewhere between fluffy ball of feathers, and biting, angry demonspawn.

“Thanks for helping ‘Sim, I admit I don’t know much about makin’ stuff.”

“It’s not a problem,” he talks around a series of staples he’s holding between his lips. He just needs to nail the chicken wire to the legs and open bottom of the broken chair  – not difficult if he doesn’t care about how pretty it looks.

“Do you know anything about birds?”

“Not really,” he responds automatically – more focussed on his task than the conversation. _I need to keep one side open... I’ll have to secure it with something._

“Is that right... I thought you mighta read about them at some point in all your books.”

“No. None of those are about birds.” _Will loose wire be strong enough?_

The conversation goes quiet, only the sound of unwinding wire and the odd clacks from the owl echo through the room. His eyes start to strain in the candlelight, but he manages to secure wire onto the frame, leaving one of the sides secured in the corners with wire rather than nails. All they have to do is unwind the sections and pull it open like a door, albeit a rather flimsy one.

It’s a carpentry nightmare to look at, but it should be fine. Finally, he opens up the bag of sawdust, wincing as little bits of dust fly out. _It can’t be helped_. Using his hands, he scoops the bedding material into the bottom of the make-shift cage. He lifts the cage to sit it upon Ruby’s dresser, it’s a lot heavier than he imagined it would be initially – _sturdier_ , he corrects himself.

He grabs his old shirt – a button-up that his mum always told him to wear for school photos. It had survived better than most of his clothes, and although it doesn’t git him anymore, he still feels a bit of fondness for it. Aasim undoes the buttons and hangs the shirt around the cage, leaving the open portion by the doorway. It won’t block out all the light come morning, but it will be better than straight daylight. “Ok, we’re good to go.”

Ruby is by his side in a flash. “It’s perfect,” she says excitedly. Carefully, she manoeuvres the little owl through the open doorway and into the back corner. It continues to attempt to nip at her fingers as she withdraws her hands and thoroughly bitten coat. In spite of how angry the bird looks, it stays in exactly the same spot in which it was placed. “He’s just shook up is all. A little rest and water and he’ll be fine.”

She says that, but Aasim can hear the slight uncertainty in her voice. To him the bird isn’t really worth getting so worked up over. It could have died from flying into that door, it could die during the night because it rattled its head, or it could have skipped the school altogether and dive-bombed a rock. “Why do you care so much?”

She gives him an incredulous look and he knows immediately that it wasn’t the right thing to say. His eyes are drawn to Ruby wringing her own hands. “Somebody’s gotta care, what’s the point otherwise.”

 

\-----

 

Over the next few days Aasim runs into Ruby far more frequently than he used to. He sees her picking out books in the library, setting up mouse traps in the basement, and every morning she gives him updates on the owl. How it recovered well overnight and is standing up more naturally. How it happily slept once the sun rose thanks to the slight covering he had added to the cage. And how she’s decided to keep watch over it for a while until she’s sure it’ll be ok to be released.

_Sparky_ , she calls it. Ruby even excitedly shoves a book of bird taxonomy in front of him during breakfast to show off what she’s learned. The thing isn’t a baby, it’s just a screech owl and tiny by nature. Ruby even surmises that Sparky must have been swooping after a mouse or lizard when it managed to head butt the admin building.

Ruby became a de facto bird mother _really_ quickly, and she insists that Aasim help her. If it just means trying to hunt down a few more rodents, or saving the off cuts from the trapped rabbits, then he doesn’t really have much to complain about. All he has to do is bring the things to Ruby’s room in the evening.

Some night he swears he can hear Sparky singing and Ruby cooing back. It always gives him pause, standing by the door with whatever little critters he had managed to hunt down for the bird. He eventually finds the nerve to interrupt and Ruby opens the door for him with the biggest grin and excitedly telling him about what he just missed.

He also learns that Ruby is a hugger... a _big_ hugger. She used to hug the smallest ones whenever they hurt themselves, and he supposes she hugs her friends too since most of the girls did that. But he hadn’t realised how often that happened until she starts to include him in those moments. It’s her way of saying _thank you,_ and she makes sure to thank him for everything.

It became routine for the next week. Ruby would relay information to him in the mornings, beaming about every new observation or trivia she had learned. Then every night he’d listen on the other side of the door as both Ruby and owl would coo and sing, and he’d inevitably interrupt the moment. She’d hug him in greeting while the bright-eyed bird stared at him in silence, waiting for Aasim to give it its meal.

It feels... surprising normal. He might even go so far as to say it felt good.

It’s just nice being around someone who cares enough to still be excited about the little things. And someone who thanks him wholeheartedly for doing his best to help, even if he can’t always do things perfect. If his friends were to ask him, he’s not sure what he’d say about Ruby. He likes being around her, but it’s different to the way he likes being with them.

He doesn’t want to put a word to that feeling.

He’s scared of what that would mean.

 

\-----

 

Aasim makes his way to Ruby’s room, the little bowl of rabbit bits held out in front of him like an offering. As he draws closer he notices something peculiar. Normally he would hear Sparky’s little trills, but tonight he can only hear his own footsteps echo back at him.

This time he doesn’t hesitate to knock on her door. He isn’t greeted by Ruby’s delightful grin, but rather a strained sort of smile that doesn’t lift the heaviness around her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she rushes the words out even though he doesn’t have a clue what she’s sorry about.

Aasim peers over Ruby’s head and towards the cage. The door is open and there’s no little fuzz ball inside. He instinctively scans the room, expecting to see something to clue him in on what exactly happened. Her window is opened, the curtains fluttering lightly in the breeze.

“He’s gone,” Ruby mutters. “I don’t know... I musta left the cage open, or I didn’t secure it closed properly.”

Aasim walks passed where Ruby has frozen near the doorway. Getting a closer look, he can see what happened. “It’s not your fault, Ruby. Sparky did this.” His fingers flick the edges of the wire cage. The owl, in spite of flying into a door, wasn’t stupid – it had pulled the securing bit of wire out of the corner of the door. All it needed to do then was push forward and escape.

“I’m _so_ sorry, ‘Sim.”

She’s not hearing him. Sure, it’s a little upsetting that it’s gone, but not for the reason’s Ruby seems to think. Sparky was the reason he kept coming here, without that excuse... He’s more scared of missing _her_ than missing the bird.

“Ya did so much and I screwed it up.”

“Ruby, you didn’t screw up. Think about it, Sparky managed to get out of the cage, and fly out of your window. That means he’s probably all better. That’s what this was all about, right?” For her it was anyway.

Her face scrunches up like she might cry.

Aasim is about to say something else when he stops. The warbling song drifts in through the window, both her and Ruby draw closer to listen. He can’t see the bird through the darkness, but he imagines that even for the small amount of time they were together that it wanted to say goodbye.

“Good luck, Sparky,” Ruby speaks quietly.

 

\-----

 

What Aasim feared was unfortunately close to what started to happen. Without Sparky he had very little reason to interact with Ruby anymore – at least not in a way that wouldn’t be _weird_.

Somehow the casual interactions felt different now. Like his friends were watching him even when they weren’t. It someone became a thing where he needed a reason to interact with her, just in case someone questioned him.

He continues his night watch alone, hearing the occasional bird song. In the mornings he makes sure to tell Ruby he’s out there and he gets to see her be happy and thankful. He would bring her meals when he could just to have that brief moment with her.

Maybe one day he can move passed it. But he knows that it isn’t going to happen soon.


	8. Finding Lighthouses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set several weeks after TFS’s conclusion. Not canon-compliant as Brody is pulling a Lazarus and is still perfectly fine in this story. Violet is trying to adjust to her vision impairment and struggling to get used to the all-encompassing darkness that stains her eyes. Maybe she just needs someone to shine a brighter light on things? Briolet because why not. 
> 
> (This chapter is written using the November Drabble prompts provided by stop_breaking_my_heart_telltale on their Tumblr. It is a loose combination of prompts 14 through 19.) 
> 
> Prompts = [Night sky, Flowers, Notebook, “I’m sorry”, Thunderstorms, Helping hand]

Every day starts in the dark.

It’s an awful feeling to move from a dreamlike realm of colour and into the waking world of blurred dullness. There is always the few seconds where she can’t tell whether her eyes are opened or closed, or if she has slept through the day and into the next night. Violet tries to blink the smudges away, but it never works. The most she gets is the slight shimmering to the stars that stick to her eyes.

If it were possible she would rather just go back to sleep and pretend that those vague glimmers are the night sky ushering her back into dreams. At least when she’s asleep the pictures are still clear. Back to the place where her friend’s faces still have freckles and lines instead of only shapes.

Though no, someone always shows up and won’t let her go back to sleep.

A knock sounds on the door before the hinges let out a slow creak. “You awake, Vi?” 

“You’re supposed to ask that _before_ you open the door,” Violet grumbles at the older girl. It’s Brody, because it’s always Brody now. Ruby got the hint that once the bandages came off Violet didn’t _want_ a helper. She was adamant that she didn’t _need_ a helper. What she needs is more time in a place where she can see. For some reason Brody chose to ignore that memo.

“If I don’t open the door you don’t answer me,” Brody responds in a lightly scolding tone. Violet can’t focus on her, only the blurry mass that grows larger as it draws closer to her bedside. “Come on, Vi, everyone’s waiting for breakfast.”

“They don’t need me to spoon-feed them. They can eat without me.” She pulls the blanket over her head.  She wishes that covering her face would actually make things significantly darker.

Brody lets out a sigh before her hand comes to rest on the lying girl’s shoulder. She gives her a light shake. “Come on. The sun’s up, buttercup.”

_Ugh_. That chipper tone grates on her ears and she burrows herself further under the covers. And it feels especially weird hearing all the optimistic rhymes from Brody – the girl is the queen of making mountains out of molehills.

“It’s time to greet the day, blue jay.”

“Fuck off, Brody” Violet whines. There’s nothing worse than someone trying to force her to be cheerful. That’s not how it works.

“I’ll stop when you get out of bed, gingerbread.”

 “That’s not even a good one.”

Brody laughs. “Maybe not, but I’m hungry and need a friend to sit with... So, are you going to get up or do I have to get Louis in here?”

_No, not Louis._ Louis is on a whole different level of annoyingly friendly. He’s the sort who wouldn’t hesitate to scoop her out of that bed and carry her around shouting about how _everyone should rejoice, Prince Charming just woke up sleeping beauty_. “I’ll get up,” she concedes while pulling the blanket off of herself. Anything is better than the mortification of the Louis parade.

“Great!” Brody responds excitedly. Violet doesn’t need to see her to know that she’s grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Why this matters so much to the girl is a mystery to Violet.

The sound of Brody clapping her fingers against her palm signals for the blind girl to reach her own hand out. A second later Brody’s hand grasps hers, offering a physical anchor in the blackness. It’s a rather strange thing for her to have gotten used to so quickly, but it was better than jumping out of her skin whenever someone grabbed for her hand without warning.

She still feels a spike of awkwardness. Without clear sight she is becoming familiar with the feel of everyone’s palms and fingers. It feels... _wrong_. Too close and personal. Even if it is necessary, she doesn’t like that she can probably identify each of her friends by the individual size and firmness of their hands.

However, Brody never seems to care, gripping her hand and leading her through the darkened corridors like it’s a normal part of her routine. And, well, Violet supposes it sort of is now.

“Ruby says the greenhouse herbs are growing well, so we might get some more variety soon. That’ll be nice, won’t it?”

“I guess.” Small talk still isn’t really Violet’s thing – probably more so now that she has to put so much focus on not walking into walls or tripping on her own feet.

“And the boys have been tidying the greenhouse up, cleaning the windows to let more light in and clearing off the shelves... Ruby makes it sound so nice when she talks about it.  We could go check it out if you want.”

“Mhmm...” she hums noncommittally.

“Oh come on, you’ll love it. Everyone always smells so nice when they come back from the greenhouse.”

The door from the dorms to the courtyard creaks open and Violet is greeted with the slight clarity of daylight. Faint bits of colour bleed through the smudges – kind of like an ink painting being dropped in water. None of it really makes sense until she’s close enough to pick out the details.

Finally Brody loosens her grip on Violet’s hand. Not letting go entirely, but letting her fingertips drag to the centre of her hand. It’s an unconscious response on Violet’s part to curl her fingers lightly to stop Brody from pulling away.

Violet _hates_ the space between the dorms and the tables. After walking the path for years she probably should know every little dip in the path, or every tuft of grass that grew between the footpaths... but without _seeing_ them she finds herself constantly tense. She doesn’t want to drag her feet, yet it feels like the only way to make sure she doesn’t trip and fall face first into the ground. If Brody felt the need to fetch her from bed, then she better not dream of leaving her before getting her to the tables.

Brody’s fingers curl around Violet’s in response and her steps slow minutely. “Just bumps on the road, Vi.”

Violet has never really thought they were anything else. But small bumps are harder to handle now.

 

\-----

 

Things become a little nicer as the day progresses. Colours stand out more and Violet finds it easier to see where one object starts and the next begins. There still aren’t any clear details, yet it’s enough for her to avoid walking into furniture or doorframes.

The path to the greenhouse, while mildly overgrown, is clear enough that she doesn’t need a direct guide. She just follows behind Brody and Ruby, treading the same path without worrying about anything catching her feet.

As the greenhouse comes into focus, and the other girls disappear through the doorway, Violet is suddenly reminded of the last time she was here...

Her feet freeze at the doorway. Back then she loved greenhouse duty. There was just something pleasing about pulling out the weeds that sprouted between the herbs. She especially liked the little clover flowers, picking them and putting them aside to take back to her room later. Sometimes she’d press the flowers or leaves between the pages of her notebooks.

In retrospect it feels stupid that she chose to pick flowers instead of scavenging, if things had been different... Well, things might be different now too. Maybe no one would have been taken, people wouldn’t have changed, and she wouldn’t be hesitating to retrace her steps.

“Violet?” Ruby’s voice cuts through her thoughts, but her feet still refuse to move. “Is it still too dark in here for ya?”

Honestly, she can’t even tell at the moment. Her vision just sees a dark void, the pinpricks of light not strong enough to reach her outside the threshold.

Suddenly Violet can hear the clapping of fingers. Tentatively, she reaches her hand out for it. As soon as there’s contact she knows that it’s Brody.

“Come on, Vi. Let me show you the sun.”

“Show me-?”

“Come on.” Brody doesn’t pull her, more she give a testing tug and Violet follows the motion.

For the first few steps the room remains shapeless, it’s a matter of faith that forces her to move forward on non-existent ground. After the fourth step the world starts to shift. Black and grey bleed into white, green, and yellow – an old, weathered photograph that has faded like a forgotten memory.

Brody lifts their connected hands until the silhouette eclipses the spots of yellow. “They’re like little suns, aren’t they? Small enough to hold in the palm of your hand.” Brody releases Violet and chuckles lightly to herself. “All the brightness and none of the skin cancer, right Vi?”

“But what is it really?” Her hand hovers above the vague shape. She’s still hesitant to touch anything without knowing what exactly she’s reaching for.

“It’s the artichoke flowers,” Ruby announces from somewhere else in the room. From the slight strain in her voice, Violet guesses that Ruby is taking on the heavy lifting in today’s chores.  “Sunflowers, but smaller.”

“Ugh,” Brody huffs, “where is everyone’s imagination today?”

Violet lets her hand drop until her fingers graze the edges of the sun, _petals._ It almost feels warm, though that can’t possibly be true. Nothing more than a trick of her mind, albeit a rather pleasant one. She’d love to be able to press one of these flowers – the type that feels warm and bright even when it’s not possible.

“Can you see the weeds at the bottom of the plant?” The shadow of Brody’s hand points towards the area where the green colour shifts in tone.

She slowly follows the shape of the plant and down to the thicker tufts at the base of the planter. “Clovers,” she can feel the difference.

“Good, now take those clover clouds out and make that sun shine.”

It’s unbelievably childish, at least Violet thinks so, yet maybe that’s alright at the moment. She hasn’t been much use to the rest of the school lately, and if she’s honest it’s been starting to get to her. If the price of being useful is hearing Brody’s exaggerated sweetness, then so be it. After all, she hasn’t seen much  sunshine for a while.

 

\-----

 

Over time Violet found herself not dreading the mornings so much anymore.  

She wakes up and sees the little suns on the top of her dresser. Even when the morning seems dull and grey, the yellow spots standout . While she still has to wait for Brody to help her out of the dorm building, it feels less like an enclosed space now.

And truthfully, she’s started to look forward to Brody’s visits. While everyone has been accommodating to her new needs, Brody has probably been the most persistent on a daily basis. There’s none of those moments where she awkwardly retracts a statement saying _nevermind_ once she remembers that Violet can’t see properly. She doesn’t blame the others for those issues, but it’s nice to have Brody around instead of being alone in the dark.

Because she knows all too well how easy it is to get stuck there. All the little moments add up, and Brody has made sure to leave guiding lights wherever she possibly can. Just being around helps remind Violet that while she can’t always see it, the world is still there.

This morning puts that feeling to the forefront. Her room is particularly dark, and Violet can already feel the chill prickling her skin. There’s a faint bit of moisture in the air signalling the coming of a storm. It’s something that give her a moment of pause – she hasn’t had to deal with bad weather without seeing it before.

Usually they have to check the upper floors to catch any leaks, block out the windows if the wind starts sending water inside, and moving the outdoor furniture under cover. None of those things are possible for her now.

Violet shuffles her feet until her toes meet the edge of her dresser and leans towards her window. The low level of light puts an extra layer of dark grey on top of the already washed out landscape. Maybe she could move the furniture if they need her to?

A knock sounds from her door and the hinges creak open a moment later. Even without any words, she knows it’s Brody – she doesn’t wait for an invitation, she just waits the appropriate amount of time for Violet to protest if she wants to be alone. Given the circumstances, she could use some extra eyes right now, just to know what exactly is going on.

“Good morning, Vi.”

“Morning, Brody,” she responds while still leaning towards her window. She can smell the rain on its way.

“I guess you can feel the storm, right?” There’s something strange about the way she’s speaking – Violet can’t put her finger on what exactly. Brody’s footsteps pad across the wooden floor until she’s standing beside Violet. “It, uh, looks like a big one.”

There’s a sudden flash and for a brief moment Violet can see the room more clearly. She sees the pale-faced Brody flinch away from the window and narrowly avoids smacking her head into her bed frame. And then the room drops back into darkness, but the quick and harsh breathing gives away Brody’s state of mind.

And now Violet realises why Brody sounds off. The last storm they had was that night with Marlon. The night that left her with that awful scar across her forehead. And the time where Violet could barely stand to look at her.

It was an awful, shitty night that they had both tried to leave behind. They had both unintentionally hurt the other, and themselves, for the span of a year. They had both said sorry one too many times for the mistakes and secrets they had kept.

Now it’s like the clock has turned back, and Brody is stuck there. In the middle of everything unravelling and trying to mend the pieces back together with shaking fingers. “It’s a panic attack, Brody. You need to breathe.”

She can hear her trying and failing to calm down. Beneath the layers of sweetness and optimism that Brody has been projecting lately, Violet had thought she may have finally gotten a hold on her anxiety problems. Clearly they are still there, the trigger is just different. But if Brody has been able to push those things aside for Violet’s benefit, then she can do the same for her now.

With careful steps, Violet finds her way over to where she last saw Brody. Somehow she finds the other girl’s trembling shoulder and eases her down until the pair of them are sitting on the edge of Violet’s bed. “Brody,” she tries to be assertive as she rests her hand between Brody’s shoulders, “everything’s fine.”

They sit in the dark. Brody’s breathing slowly levelling out as the occasional flash of light illuminates the whole room. While it gives Violet brief glimpses of the world around her, it does nothing for Brody. Her breath hitches with each bolt of lightning.

“If the flowers are the sun, what’s the lightning?”

“What?” Brody half-hiccups through her breathing.

“What’s the lightning?” She doesn’t know what compels her to ask, but maybe the distraction will help. “Do you remember the Polaroid camera that the school used to have? What if it’s like that?”

Against  Violet’s expectations, Brody actually laughs. “Then I guess someone wants us to smile.”

_There’s the optimistic Brody_. “I guess they do.”

The next flash of lightning only causes a slight flinch from Brody followed by a little, airy chuckle. It’s not perfect, but it feels damn good to repay comfort with comfort. Even as the silence carries on, it doesn’t feel awkward.

The rain starts to pelt the school and the flashing lights peter out into nothing. Violet’s hand doesn’t move but she feels Brody’s weight on her side grow heavier. She could be asleep, or just enjoying the proximity of someone else during the vulnerable moment she is coming down from. Violet doesn’t make a noise or move too harshly in case it’s the former.

She can’t remember the last time she felt quite so comfortable being so close to someone else – physically leaning against them and not feeling awkward. Bypassing her own barriers to be helped and to then help in return. Even if it started out as them both just trying to make amends, it feels like something has grown from there.

Violet could get used to this. All of it, with a little helping hand.


	9. A Different Path (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon-divergent AU that occurs after episode 2 of TFS. The Delta raids the school and Clem makes an unfortunate miscalculation. The Delta comes away with two captives; Aasim and Clementine. They wait on the boat for rescue, but nothing. Too late to be saved, the pair are stuck under the thumb of Lilly and the new “home” promised to them. Expect some light Clemsim that develops more as the story progresses.
> 
> Warning that this is heavier than the other stories in this collection; expect an exploration of how I think the Delta successfully ‘convert’ their prisoners. 
> 
> (This chapter is written using the November Drabble prompts provided by stop_breaking_my_heart_telltale on their Tumblr. It is a loose combination of prompts 20 through 30.) 
> 
> Prompts = [Too late, “I missed you”, Memories, Snowfall, “It’s not your fault”, Card game, “Oops”, Silence, Things left unsaid, Confession, Endings]

It seemed like a no-brainer at the time. They had a plan, and even when it went pear-shaped Clementine thought they could make it work. At the very least they could put a stop to the downward spiral. She has gone through plans that suddenly went south more times than she can count, she just had to not make the same mistakes.

It wasn’t the time for lone wolf tactics, she had to pull the injured back into hiding and carry on the fight. Handing Omar off to Tennessee lost her some time to hide, but it may have saved him from a worse fate. And, of course, the weaker she could make the enemy the more likely they would be to surrender, flee, or fall. It’s no different to a game of chess; if she keeps her side’s numbers greater than the opponents then she controls the board.

They _were_ winning. They lost Mitch, yet Lilly’s much more trained and organised side lost two. Both were taken out in the admin building – tripping their traps and falling victim to arrows when they got far too close for Clem to be comfortable. Any potential gains for the Delta were gone by that point, it wouldn’t even be breaking even. A sensible person would withdraw and save any further losses.

That’s the way it was meant to be, but there’s no accounting for how people react in desperate moments.

Lilly isn’t predictable in those situations. She gets out of dodge, but the _how_ could be anything. Throw in the lackeys standing behind her and the water gets even muddier. She could run, she could shoot, or she could dig her heels in and rally her ‘troops’.

Option one was what Clementine wanted – to have her run and realise that messing with them will always be a mistake. The shooting option wouldn’t be good, but it seemed like a bad call on Lilly’s part to kill more of her ‘prizes’. The last choice is what scared her the most. If they managed to organise themselves and carry on then it would be an all-out slaughter, both sides clawing tooth and nail to be the last man standing.

 _And Lilly did fucking all of it_.

She shot first, rallied, and then ran off with her spoils. It was the worst possible combination. There wasn’t even enough time to finish her unfinished business with Abel – Lilly made sure of that.

The woman was always a good shot, but Clem honestly never thought she would turn the sights on her. Not outside of hollow threats, anyway. To actually pull the trigger, to let that man throw her over the balcony railing... the tiny memory of a caring Lilly died then and there.

No more looking at her hair ties and thinking that at least something nice sprouted in between all the thorns. She’s like a rose bush with no flowers, and the attempt to find any has only hurt her.

What troubles Clementine most is that in that moment she heard a multitude of bullets being fired – she got hit by one, and she has no idea where the rest ended up. The actual count of injured, dead, and escaped is completely unknown to her.

She barely had time to comprehend anything except for how far down shit creek she managed to travel. They had succeeded in pissing off Lilly, and she refused to take even the lightest disrespect without swift punishment . Any attempts to save the situation were too little too late. Nothing more than a paddle made from a fishing net.

Clementine doesn’t know how exactly she ended up blacking out, but there are far too many blanks for her to be comfortable. She remembers the squabble with Abel, AJ trying desperately to help. Lilly firing her rifle as Clem tried to fight with Abel on the balcony, and the awful sensation of being lifted over the flimsy railing.

She doesn’t remember hitting the ground. The weightlessness, though... that sticks to her mind. None of it felt real, and even now she isn’t sure if the sound of Abel’s shotgun being fired was in her imagination. Maybe that was just the rattling of her body finally hitting the ground. But that’s the last thing she remembers, staring up at the embers flying towards the sky.

Her next conscious moment was waking up in the unfamiliar room.

She hasn’t moved since then. The room keeps shifting and she can’t get her feet to cooperate – not that it matters, she can see the shadow of bars falling across the floor from the one doorway in the room. So Clem sits in the corner of the floating cell, a bullet hole in her arm  and... _nothing_. Just her brain going in circles, too much coming at her rapid-fire.

_Bullet. Blood. Buckshot. Bad room. Bad place. AJ. Lilly. **Lilly. Lilly.**_

The crusty, bloody gap stays in her arm, and Clementine stays on the floor.

Her mind screams that this can’t be real, that any second now everything will somehow reset. Surely it’s not real... because if it is, then she’s lost everything again.

No supplies. No home. No friends. No AJ.

She’s reminded of when she lost Lee. When she lost Christa. When she lost everyone from the cabin... The world can’t be that cruel to make her repeat this cycle endlessly. Doomed to always lose everything she had only just gained.

But the Delta can be that cruel, and they don’t care anymore than the world does.

Clem pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to cut off the wet frustration building behind her eyes. Everything aches, from her brain down to her toes. Still, she has to move, she knows that there’s absolutely nothing to be gained by surrendering to this – it doesn’t stop her from needing the moment.

She blinks away the slight blurring to her vision as she drops her hand away from her face. It’s not just her dealing with everything. Aasim’s voice fades in and out amongst the rest of the background noise.

Presumably he’s in better shape than she is at the moment, having not tumbled off of a second floor balcony. And hopefully he doesn’t also feel the radiating burn from a high calibre bullet. She can feel the puncture shift whenever she moves any part of her hand. Uncomfortable is too mild a word for the feeling.

If her body would allow it she would shift over to the doorway to find out what exactly he’s saying. Frankly she’s too exhausted to try. Even tilting her head causes painful surges to course through her neck. Though she imagines Aasim’s words are probably the same things she’s thinking right now. A lot of swears, threats, and vague imaginings that make the situation feel less dire.

Or maybe he’s already hit the depths, falling into prayers and dying hopes. Clem wouldn’t blame him, but she doesn’t want to hear her own dark thoughts spoken aloud by someone else. That only makes them seem louder than what little hopeful glimmers she clings to.

_They won’t leave me here._

Because some of them got away, right? They wouldn’t just let her and Aasim be carted away and forgotten. The words repeat in her head on loop.

Even as she hears idle chatter from the Delta about leaving. _It must be because they’re scared of retaliation, maybe everyone else is right outside trying to get in._

_They won’t leave me here._

Even when she can smell the smoke and feel the heat from the boat’s boiler. _Maybe they’ve set up a trap, some sort of roadblock across the river to get us out._

_They won’t leave me._

Even as she feels the vessel lurching and moving upriver.

_They won’t..._

...

But it’s too late, and they did.

 

\-----

 

“Eat.” A metal tray slides across the floor and clatters into the wall opposing the doorway. The impact is enough to spill some of the mush, _food_ , onto the floor. It looks even worse than the last tray. The door slams shut and the man moves on without another word.

Clem makes no attempt to get the food. It’s day two on the water and there is still no way she trusts food prepared behind closed doors. Especially when it’s a grey-brown mash of unidentifiable sludge. It could be anything – and she’s not stupid, she remembers the dairy. The idea that Lilly might remember too is enough incentive to not touch it.

Besides, the shifting of the boat turns her stomach when it’s empty. There seems to be little point in refuelling just to lose it.

Ignoring their orders is also the last little bit of rebellion she currently has the energy for. As much as she wants to raise hell on these people, it feels like that would be about as useful as screaming at a storm to turn around.

“What is it?” Clementine can scarcely hear Aasim over the movement of the boat.

“Pig feed,” is the not so helpful answer from the Delta man.

Aasim scoffs. “Looks more like pig shit.”

It takes less than three seconds before the harsh sound of a scuffle echoes into her cell – and that is enough to incite her into moving.

Her body sways as she swiftly forces herself over to the barred doorway. It’s hardly graceful as she half falls into the clanging metal. She gets the briefest glimpse of one of the raider men, the _big_ one, holding Aasim face-down on the floor. Aasim tries in vain to lift himself but there’s no combating this guy; he’s easily twice as heavy as either of them and also not scuffed up from the raid at the school.

Without thinking she fumbles over to her food pile and scoops a lump into her right hand. Ignoring the pain pulsing down her arm, she hurls the mass through the bars and towards the raider man. He lets out a grunt as the sludge makes contact with the back of his head.

“Leave him alone!” Clementine hollers, uncaring of how weak the attempt at retaliation is. If the bars weren’t there she’d gladly take her chances and take a swing at him. Or fall on him, if her weak feet carry on slipping.

For a second the hulking man pauses, his hands still tightly gripping the back of Aasim’s neck and one of his arms. In one painfully quick moment, he lifts the boy slightly before pushing him back into the floor with force.

Aasim lets out a startled yelp followed by a pained groan. The raider leaves Aasim there, a groaning heap on the floor.

The man makes piercing eye contact with Clementine as he exits the cell and locks the door. He wipes his hand across the back of his head, pulling away the grit sticking to his hair. Flicking the gunk from his hand, he turns an accusatory finger towards her.

“You’re lucky Lilly likes you. The second you’re out of her shadow, that attitude’s gonna cause you to hurt.” There’s a clear threat lingering to his words, though not one that Clem understands. She’s in no one’s shadow – and that _definitely_ includes Lilly. The man doesn’t give her time to question his scathing expression before he turns and stalks off.

“Mother fucker,” Aasim tries to be angry, but it sounds more exhausted than anything. Clem can’t even see him behind the blocked lower-half to the cell door. “Fuck,” he whispers again as he finally appears to stand up. A bloody trail drips from a split in his lip down to the bottom of his chin.

“If you’re going to antagonise them, wait until they close the door.” Aasim scoffs at Clem’s words. “Do you want them to get the jump on you?”

Aasim wipes at his lip before gesture harshly with his stained hand. “You don’t call someone an animal and not expect them to bite back.”

“And you don’t push an idiot with a temper,” Clem emphasises. Being on the boat is hard enough without having to watch her one companion getting beaten over a disagreement of the menu. “They’re not the thinking sort of people, Aasim. But _you_ are – so use your head before they break it.”

The poor boy’s face is blotched with red, a mix of a blood smear and his own rising emotions. “This is bullshit,” his voice bubbles on the edges. It hurts to hear him like this; trying so hard not to break apart with only a moment’s notice.

“I know it is.”

“It’s _fucked_ ,” he gestures harshly with his hands.

“They can’t keep us in here forever. Once we have some room to move we can figure out how to fix this.”

“Yeah, once we’re all the way up the Ohio river!” Aasim clearly isn’t calming down. It’s like that raider pulled the plug on all of his bottled up thoughts.

“Aasim!” Clem speaks as firmly as she can manage. He locks eyes with her, still angry but focused. “I’ve gone from Georgia to West Virginia. I spent _months_ looking for AJ. I don’t care if I have to drag your ass there, we _will_ get back home.”

Aasim goes quiet, folding his arms against his chest and turning away from the doorway. She can’t see his expression, only the exaggerated rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes. When he finally speaks, his voice has lost its biting edge. “Do you actual believe that?”

“We’ll... We’ll get through this.” Clementine wishes she could actually say that with confidence, but it sounds more like something she’d tell AJ to stop him panicking – even if it is a lie.

“Mitch didn’t,” the words are spoken so softly that Clem doesn’t think Aasim intended for her to hear him.

 _No, he didn’t. He went out horribly._ And who knows about the others. It hurts to think about how normal their last moments together were. Joking and laughing over cards like there wasn’t an impending disaster on the horizon.

What happened to Louis and Violet? Tennessee and Willy? Omar and Ruby?

_What about AJ?_

She can’t think about any of that right now – that’s a rabbit hole that she won’t be able to crawl out of.

“Think about something else,” Clementine says aloud to her feet. She tries to get the confidence back into her voice, but it just isn’t there.

 

\-----

 

Day four, and the crew on the boat seem to be in high spirits while Clementine and Aasim are at their lowest.

Minnie’s sudden appearance doesn’t help either. Clem wouldn’t have even noticed if Aasim hadn’t called out to her as she walked passed the doorways. She barely spares a glance in Clem’s direction, which is understandable, but she also completely ignores Aasim. If she just acknowledged him once then maybe he could pull himself together. Yet she doesn’t, and they stay at square one.

She hears Aasim smack his fist into the walls on multiple occasions. Usually followed by a pained noise when he quickly realises that’s a bad idea. At the very least the split in his lip has healed up well – the lack of talking probably helping in that regard.

The hole in Clem’s arm has sealed yet still occasionally pulses with pain, and her bruised muscles don’t want to move more than the bare minimum. She has spent most of the long days sitting beneath the windows with the sturdy metal against her back. It lets her feel the motion of the boat and when she closes her eyes she can imagine it’s the rocking of the car, or even the train. Happier memories that don’t involve waking up to the inside of a cell.

Two or three times Clem has caught Lilly or Abel peering in at her from the doorway... just _staring_. Like they are trying to figure out where her fighting spirit has gone off to. She never sees them walk up, only catching them after they’ve already been standing there for some time.

It makes her skin crawl. Yet as much as she’d like to tell them to _fuck off_ she just doesn’t have the energy. And knowing them, that would probably only encourage them to stay there longer. They might even find new ways to rub salt in the wound by opening up some of those stolen jars of food and taking their meals right outside her door.

Clem still hasn’t eaten, and in spite of the mind fog and dizziness she can’t say she feels hungry anymore. Presumably Aasim feels the same, she sees the raiders remove the still full trays from his cell as well. She could just ask him, however she hasn’t heard a peep out of him since day two. His temper seems to have quelled for the most part, but it sapped the rest of his energy along with it.

To be fair, she hasn’t had a need to speak since then either. The guards that pass by the cells are hardly chatty, and she refuses to initiate friendly banter with them for no reason.

As the day starts to turn dark Clem picks up on the difference in atmosphere. The air smells different, like a mix of hot asphalt and sun-dried cloth, and the Delta members start to move with a spring in their step. It’s almost like they didn’t lose two people in the past week.

_Do they seriously think they’ll be seen as some sort of heroes for this? Or do they just not care?_

In the end, Clem decides she doesn’t want to understand what the Delta is thinking. It can’t be good to be on the same wavelength as them.

The sound of the boat’s engine suddenly goes quiet and the whole vessel lets out a brief shudder as it coasts to a slow stop in the water. Clementine’s stomach drops like a ball of lead.

She’s had four days to imagine this moment, and it still isn’t enough to put her at ease. No matter how she spins this, it’s always imprisonment disguised as a _welcome home_ party. And on cue, her chaperone appears, clad in her military-like fatigues and with a rifle in hand.

“Come on, Clementine.” Lilly’s voice has that saccharine quality that does nothing to calm Clementine’s nerves. “I have some friends who will be very excited to meet you.”

“I highly doubt that,” her voice is hoarse and sounds rough on her own ears.

“Don’t sell yourself short.” The door is unbolted and swings open while Lilly starts gesturing towards Clem with the nose of her gun. “Stand up. Don’t turn me into a liar now.”

The opinions of Lilly’s _friends_ aren’t worth the air to voice them. The barrel of the gun, however, speaks clearly. It takes considerable effort for Clem to force herself upright using the wall behind her as support. “Happy?” Clem grumbles.

“Ecstatic,” she replies just as unenthusiastically. “You know how this works, don’t you? Stay ahead of me and listen to orders, otherwise I pull the trigger. Now, move.”

Reluctantly, Clem follows the order and exits the cell with the rifle jabbing between her shoulder blades. Lilly leads the girl through the boat and eventually out into the chill of open air.

She sets foot onto a wooden jetty, the length of which is lit with a string of fairy lights – providing enough of a glow to highlight every silhouette on the landing to the guard towers ahead of them. They look similar to the lookout perch at the school, but sturdier. A pair of support legs hold the front portion of the tower over the edge of the wall, giving the soldiers an even wider range of view.

Between the towers is a large wall made from predominantly cement with a slight upper lip that looks to be made from wooden pallets. Bits of metal sheeting jut out from the vertical surface, creating sharp edges to catch anyone trying to scale the wall in either direction. It looks like a very painful mistake to make. 

Clem tries to pinpoint all of the watchtowers, but they seem to stretch far beyond what she can see in the dark. _Where the hell are we?_

Lilly doesn’t give her long to ponder on the details and continues to march Clementine towards the wall. A portion of the wall that seems entirely metal slides open as they approach, several armed adults standing to the sides as they watch the procession disembarking the boat. They move like ants, single file and marching to assist with unloading whatever supplies they had on board.

It’s troubling how silent it all is – no one is giving orders. It’s like they’re all following a script that they have rehearsed hundreds of times before today. Every step memorised to perfection.

As they pass through the gate Clem notices how thick the bulk of the wall is. Wide enough for a person to comfortably walk across its top surface, maybe even run if they’re careful with their footing. It must have taken ages to gather all the materials and construct such a massive structure. Either there’s an old a construction warehouse nearby, or the Delta has had some very specific scavenging lists.

Going into the main compound, she can also finally get some sort of understanding of where they are. Or at least what this place used to be. Where they are now seems like a riverside park. The kind of place where families would set out on their little boats to drift on the river, or simply stay on land and make use of the facilities. There’s probably a playground somewhere, and maybe even a covered area for barbecues. Unfortunately, a large portion of the park seems to be obscured by tall fencing – chain link, but with a mix of fabric and tarps obscuring the view through to the other side.

Butting up against the fence is an old community building. Time has worn away its wooden exterior, though it’s not quite as bad as the pair of shipping containers placed haphazardly beside it. She isn’t sure if they were put there to stop the old structure from toppling over, or if they simply use the metal boxes as outbuildings. It almost reminds her of Prescott with all of its modifications on old structures.

It’s also surprisingly well lit, using everything from torches down to those little solar lights that she used to see in her neighbours garden beds. The community building even seems to be lit with soft lamplight – _electric_ light from the solar panels that Lilly was so proud of as a selling point.

And if Lilly was telling the truth about growing food, then there has to be another spot with tilled soil somewhere. If the fence is anything to go by, then this must only be one section of the Delta base.

Even so, none of the potential luxuries make the atmosphere feel any less suffocating.

Clem continues to walk where Lilly guides her – which seems to be towards the shipping containers beside the community building.

A man exits the building and takes notice of the groups return. He takes long strides to meet up and walk in step with Lilly. He’s a lanky guy, head and shoulders taller than her, and with a beard that looks too red for his mop of brown hair. He can’t be that much older than her or Aasim, but he carries himself like he’s been here for years. “You only got two,” he states in a low tone.

“It’s a light haul but a good one.” Lilly clearly doesn’t care to be undermined by whoever this man is. “This one here could take you down quick.”

The man lets out a disbelieving huff. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“And you will. Once she stops being stubborn,” she gabs between Clem’s shoulders and forces her to increase her pace.

“What level?”

“Four.”

“Really, for only two of them?”

“Did I stutter, Marcus?”

“No ma’am. I’ll see that it happens.” And just like that he’s gone, trotting off in the opposite direction.

Clem _really_ wishes that conversation made sense.

“Stop,” Lilly barks out the order and Clem freezes before the pair of rusted shipping containers. Clementine can’t see them, but she can feel the eyes of dozens of people watching her, probably from inside that building and on top of the walls. Scrutinising, trying to get a gauge on who this girl is. “Second crate, walk to the back.”

As much as Clem doesn’t like this, she obeys. A bright red shipping crate sits open, its metal jaws ready to snap shut and lock its contents into a world of complete darkness. The container is empty and makes a terrible echo as her shoes tap across the metal. Once she reaches the end she turns to see Aasim slowly pacing down to her.

He looks far more haggard than she anticipated, like he’s simultaneously not slept for days but is also sleepwalking. Dark rings circle his eyes, probably a mix of said lack of sleep and minor bruising from being thrown to the floor. In spite of that, he makes an admirable effort to look like he isn’t troubled.

“See you in the morning, kids.” That’s the only warning they get before the doors start shutting and everything disappears into blackness. Aasim hasn’t even made it beyond the midpoint of the container before they both lose sight of everything.

“Shit,” Aasim clearly stumbles; she can hear his hands hitting the floor.

“Hang on,” Clem shuffles through the dark. She blindly reaches out for her companion.

It’s beyond disorientating; she’s feeling through nothing to find an invisible anchor. Almost like trying to catch a puff of smoke on a foggy day.

After several slow and unsure steps, her extended hand brushes against Aasim’s shoulder. In turn, Aasim is quick to latch onto Clem’s arm. She uses muscle memory to shuffle backwards, leading him along with her until her heels tap against the backmost wall. Sliding down to the floor, some of the surreal vertigo leaves her.

The confined atmosphere is awful, and she knows that he feels it too. Clinging to anything like the lifeline it is. Aasim sits to her side, shoulder brushing against hers. “I’m going to kill her,” his voice rasps into her ear. “I don’t care how long it takes. I’m going to kill her.”

Something about his detached voice puts Clem on edge. He sounds serious, but as far as she knows he hasn’t had the burden of deciding someone fate before. "Hey." She leans into Aasim's shoulder and gives him a weak smile that he certainly can’t see. "It's okay. We can plan that stuff in the morning."

Aasim doesn't respond, but Clementine thinks it's because he understands she’s only trying to pacify him. Maybe he doesn't want to tell her how delusional and hollow she sounds. Or he’s simply humouring her and keeping whatever plots he has inside his head. Without seeing his expressions it’s hard to figure any of it out.

Clem slips further down the metal wall, letting her back lie flat on the floor. “Get some sleep, Aasim. Lilly starts her days early.”

 

\-----

 

It starts out slow, much to Clem’s surprise.

The morning has well and truly started by the time someone decides to open the container. Walking from complete darkness into piercing light throws her immediately off balance. And that’s probably what Lilly wants, to have a follower who can barely think for the first hour of their day.

Clem hasn’t forgotten, but all the details are gone. Like trying to remember a day by looking at a blurred photograph.

At some point they were taken to the community building and forced into new clothes. Nothing sturdy that could protect them if they ended up outside the walls. Lilly swoops in to pull her hat off of her head; offering some vague promise to return it when she behaves.

Which is utter bullshit, because taking the hat has nothing to do with keeping her reliant on the Delta for protecting her behind walls and soldiers – this is nothing more than Lilly digging at the one sentimental link that she has left. _Behaving_ isn’t what she wants, she wants _obedience_ by bribing her captive with her own stuff. It isn’t the same and Clem doesn’t appreciate her trying to convince her otherwise.

They were then looked over by a slew of people who try to read every facet  about them by appearances and Lilly’s word. They certainly spent a long time whispering amongst themselves, not that Clem remembers a word of it. Most seem disinterested, nodding and giving Lilly whatever go-ahead she needed. 

The vengeful side of Clem hopes that the rest of them have learned something about Lilly today. That she chose two kids over two soldiers, because her choices exist in a vacuum. What mattered to Lilly in that raid was the prize, not the cost.

What would the consequences be for her? A reprimand?

But maybe they already know that and don’t care.  And since they walk out of there without anyone causing a scene, she’s pretty sure that she’s in for a slap on the wrist at worst.

Now she finds herself being patrolled around the full compound with Lilly sticking close to her side. In her periphery she’s aware that they are being tailed by a trio of armed soldiers, and somewhere behind them is also Abel with Aasim.

“You know I missed you,” Lilly smiles and looks legitimately calm as she drops that bullshit gem. If Clem could roll her eyes any harder she’d break something in her head.

The woman doles out speeches that are probably supposed to inspire some sort of group patriotism in Clem, but she would be better off not wasting her breath. Every sentence carries the implication that _this place is great, and_ _now you’re a part of this._ Following Lilly is a matter of self-preservation, but it’s only her feet that are following the woman’s orders. Her attention is far more focussed on the world around them.

 _No holes in the fences. Guard patrols everywhere. Watchtowers without obvious blind spots._ Sneaking out doesn’t look like an easy task.

They walk around the riverside section of the park, yet there are also the other divided areas; each behind more chain link fencing, gates and checkpoints that Lilly strolls through without so much as a second glance.

First Lilly tours Clem through the other side of the park, which does in fact have an old set of play equipment. Vines have grown through the rungs of the monkey bars and the framework of the swings, promising a bountiful harvest of fruit in the proper season. The whole area has been trellised, staked, and set into lines upon lines of crops.

It would be impressive if she doesn’t think about how many people died for it to exist. Of course, Lilly doesn’t mention the numbers and carries on boasting about what Clem is now an accessory to.

Next she shows off the residential areas, which seem to be a mix of roadside commercial buildings and a selection of side streets with low density housing. More houses than the Delta actually needs from what Clem can gather. If they are all occupied, then there can’t be more than one or two people in a lot them. It offers a concerning promise of expansion in numbers that she doesn’t like.

A standing array of solar panels sits upon the commercial buildings with flat rooves, each with strings of wires running inside through the uppermost windows and across to the neighbouring buildings. The one sour point is the concrete wall that abruptly cuts off what she imagines would have been a continuation of the suburbs – a place similar to where she grew up.

Something about it gives Clem chills. Maybe it’s because the sight is both familiar yet unfamiliar. A promise of comfort that should feel amazing, but she doesn’t want to feel that. The idea that Lilly was telling the truth about having sturdy walls, food, and working power is not something that Clem wants to dwell on.

On the street behind the residences is a section of cemented land that may have been a parking lot for the nearby park and commercial buildings. Now it’s all penned in with ramshackle shelters for pigs and birds.

Then beyond that, sitting between the animal pens and the exterior wall, is what Clem can only describe as _the pits_.

Not quite a slum, and not exactly a campground – more like the place where the Delta throws everything that needs to be mulched down into something they deem useful. About a dozen people sit about within the fenced in area, looking like they are trying to vanish by simply being meek. Doing nothing but following Clem and Lilly with their eyes.

The position by the parking area and the ruin-like appearance suggests it was an unfinished construction. A grocery store, maybe. Whatever it was, now it’s nothing more than cracked foundations and the twiggy bones of wall supports. The only shelter available is from tarps and cloth tents being suspended from anything post-like.

It’s a ditch designed for new _recruits_ , it stinks, and it has a surrounding fence topped with razor wire. Strangely, Lilly doesn’t try to sell it up as anything better. There’s no way she can really paint it in a different light. No, it’s just the pits and it’s awful.

“I think it’s time we talk about how this is going to work,” Lilly states with conviction before turning towards Clem. The woman gazes through her, staring down like a wild wolf sizing up a domestic pup. “It looks bad in there, doesn’t it?”

“It’s a shithole.” The whole situation is, but this particular spot is the epicentre of all the awfulness.

“We can agree on that. From here it looks bad, but it’s hardly as bad as it could be.”

 _Doubtful,_ Clem thinks resentfully.

“There are no walkers, they get fed, and all we ask is that they cooperate in return. They don’t,” Lilly gestures with her hand into the people pen, “so they stay until they learn. If they can fight, we send them to fight, and if they can’t we find another use for them. We aren’t so cruel to throw them outside the walls unprepared.  

“Still, there are no free passes here. Sacrifices have to be made by each person to make sure the group survives. You must know about that, though, don’t you?” Lilly asks while scrutinising the slightest twitch to Clem’s features.

It takes a conscious effort to keep a passive expression. None of this feels good to her, like being led by the hand into a trap. “I don’t think we have the same definition of sacrifice.”

“Hmm,” Lilly hums, “perhaps not. But something we both understand is that actions have consequences. One small act can make all the difference to how much we trust someone. Whether a certain child can be part of the family,” Lilly pulls her pistol from her hip holster and holds the handle out towards Clementine, “and if they deserve the love we offer them.”

Clem is sure now that this must be a trap. Lilly gives the gun a light shake, seemingly to entice Clem to take it. She doesn’t move – _there has to be another angle_.

“You don’t trust me,” Lilly comes to her own conclusion before replacing the pistol in her holster.  “The interesting question is how your little friend feels about that.”

“ _What?_ ”

“It’s clear you won’t listen to any deals I have to offer you, but your friend might not share your opinions. For your sake, I hope you learn where to place that trust of yours.” She turns lightly, closing the conversation on her terms. “Abel.”

Abel and Aasim have been off to the side, following behind Lilly and her like they’re following the same steps but are always one place behind in the queue. “On it. Stay,” he points a crooked finger in Aasim’s direction before he and Lilly swap captives.

She can’t take her eyes off of Lilly, there’s just something extremely disconcerting about how her confidence seems stronger the more Clem defies her. Lilly rests her hand on Aasim’s shoulder, speaking low enough that Clem can’t hear the words – though, judging from the lowering of his brows, it can’t be anything normal.

“It ain’t polite to eavesdrop, kid.” Abel plants his hand on top of her head and forces her attention back towards the fenced in area in front of them. “Not every conversation is meant for you.”

She scoffs. That might be true in the grand scheme of things, but right now every little thing seems to be tailored around getting her to cooperate. Or she’s finally gone off her rocker and become completely paranoid. Both are feasible... it doesn’t make her any more ok with these people trying to discredit her concerns.

“Make any more noises like that and you’ll end up with the pigs.”

“It can’t be worse than there,” Clem points into the recruitment pits. “Besides, I feel like the pig pen is _your_ territory, not mine.”

Abel lets out a gravelly laugh. “Cute,” he says dryly. He fishes through his pockets and pulls out an incredibly worn cigarette holder. “A bit of advice, because I like you,” he pauses to bring a cigarette to his lips and light it, “you need to watch that smart mouth of yours. Most people here don’t got a sense of humour.”

She’s well aware of that. But something about Lilly and Abel feels different to the other Delta soldiers. That and they’ve made a bit of a mistake in informing her about her importance to them. Someone may decide to deck her if she gets too mouthy, but not these two. It would make their trade off less justified if they show off how much worse she is compared to the two lost raiders.

 Smoke filters out through the gaps in Abel’s teeth. The fetid smell mixes with the offensive odour of animals and squalor. He points the cigarette in the direction of the pit, a trail of smoke trailing behind his hand. “See that one?” Sitting beneath the corner of a suspended tarp is a woman with a pale face and dark hair matted into a dirty plait. Her green eyes stare over at them, seemingly uncaring that they are staring back. “Paige. Girl’s the one to talk to if you need anything. Head of the totem pole, keeps the new ones in line. _Don’t_ cross her.”

 _Is that genuine advice?_ Clementine doesn’t know how to respond to that. Thankfully, it doesn’t look she is going to have to.

Lilly’s little chat with Aasim is over and she starts to shove his shoulder towards the guarded entry point to the pits.

“Looks like your friend made a bad call.” Abel drops the end of his cigarette to the floor and stomps it out. “Time’s up, kid,” he ushers her over towards Lilly.

The woman has a heavy crease in her brow as she forcefully pushes Clem into the pit behind Aasim.

“Learn fast, Clementine,” Lilly mocks as she seals them away.

 

\-----

 

True to Abel’s word, Paige gave them the _grand tour_ of the pits. It was a tour that lasted all of a minute.

_“There’s a spare spot to sleep over there. I’d claim it now before someone else does. Just sit down and don’t move. And don’t touch my stuff”_

Her stuff happened to be a blanket and a milk crate set up like a stool.

And that was it. Clem isn’t sure why she expected anything different.

Trying to follow her advice, Clem and Aasim sit in the indicated space – the outside corner of the unknown building’s foundation. The strung up tarp barely provides any covering, every breeze bathing the pair in direct sunlight until it settles back in place. With the growing chill in the air, it’s the potential of an early frost that concerns her more. Especially if they are outside well into the winter with only the small sliver of tarp to protect them from the elements.

Aasim takes the very edge, his feet hanging over the raised edge of the foundation and leaning his back against her shoulder. She can feel when he takes an exceptionally large breath and lets out a quiet sigh.

Something clearly has him all bothered. “What’d she say to you?” Clementine prods.

He kicks his feet across the ground, sending out a small puff of dirt. “It doesn’t matter. It’s all bullshit anyway.”

So he says, and she believes that it probably was all bullshit, but his tone says that it _does_ matter . “Ok, so what’d she lie about?”

“She said that she’d rather take you than me. And that you’re ready to ‘ _fix that problem_ ’,” he adds air quotes to the words and pauses in swinging his legs. “She said that the only way you get out is if I’m gone, and so it would be better if I made the first move. She didn’t say any of that to you, did she?”

Clem can hardly believe what she’s hearing. Aside from it all being blatantly untrue, Aasim has just come right out and confessed to all of it. Blatantly telling her that Lilly has suggested that Aasim fight her before she turns on him. Surely Lilly didn’t plan on that. “No... she didn’t say anything like that.”

“I didn’t think so. I mean, if she wants you, then there’s no reason to tell me any of that other than to dig into my head.” Aasim rakes his fingers through his hair like the action can somehow clear his mind. It will take something a lot more substantial to do that.

 “Don’t believe her, ok? I’m not going to throw you under the bus – it doesn’t matter what she offers me.” Clem wishes she could offer him something stronger than her word.

“Same.” Aasim leans further back, letting himself slide until his head is resting on her shoulder. She can’t tell whether it’s the relief or if he’s just too mentally exhausted to keep himself sturdy.

It’s fine. She can shoulder his burdens for a little while. After all, it couldn’t have been an easy decision to drop all that information like that. Because for all he knew it was true and he effectively showed off his hand before the final bets.

“She also said that if I agreed to help her with something we could move straight into the proper houses.”

“Oh yeah? And what’d she want?”

“I don’t know,” he tilts his head to the side and Clem can feel his posture relax. “I may have told her to go fuck herself.”

Clem starts laughing before she remembers where they are. It isn’t even that funny, she just wasn’t expecting it. After a few brief chuckles she forces herself to stop. Paige is eerily watching them from across the encampment and it’s a sobering reminder of the situation. _Right_ , it’s hardly an appropriate reaction given the circumstances.

“I’m glad you find it funny, she looked pissed.”

“I bet. That makes it even better.”

They both fall back into silence. Aasim’s weight grows heavier and Clem gets the feeling that he really has pushed himself too far – she has pushed herself too, but there’s a stark difference that she’s only now realising. The valuable commodity, as far as Lilly sees it, is Clem. Aasim is the secondary grab, the bonus on top.

She is starting several rungs higher on the ladder thanks to her interactions with Lilly and Abel. But Aasim... he’s not stupid – he knows he’s in a more dangerous spot because of that. He could be turned into an easy scapegoat, a whipping boy, or a forgotten tool left to rust in the garden.

It isn’t fair. None of it is.

The least she can do is remind him that she doesn’t intend to let any of that bad stuff happen. If that means keeping watch and letting him rest on her shoulder, then so be it.

She keeps watch on the others in the compound and the proper Delta outside of the fence. They might as well be invisible to the people outside, not worth a passing glance while they go about their own business.

As for the people inside... they seem to be trying their best not to move. Preserving energy, sleeping, or people watching to the extreme. She can’t tell if it’s because whatever they’ve gone through has broken them, or if daily life here is just exhausting to the point where they take any opportunity to shut down.

It’s just another thing she doesn’t want to think about. Maybe they don’t want to think either, and she’s not about to ruin that for them.

Aasim stays asleep through the bulk of the day, eventually shifting from leaning against Clem to lying on his side against the concrete. That is until everything gets too loud. What started as a dozen people doubles by nightfall – the recruits selected for day training and chores returning to the pit to sleep.

Some come in carrying milk crates filled with stacked plates. The workers take first pick before passing out the leftovers to whoever they choose. Paige grabs three plates and makes sure Clem and Aasim get something. The portions are small, but at least it doesn’t look as bad as the stuff on the boat. Clementine watches as some of the others eye her and Aasim suspiciously.

None make an effort to introduce themselves. Each person sticking to small groups of no more than five. It doesn’t take Clem long to realise that whatever trust these people have is isolated to the people they originally arrived with. Old relationships persisting without letting any new ones form.

The exception seems to be Paige and one or two others. Sitting alone or milling around between a group before moving on to the next. Clementine gets the feeling that they’re the cats that lives in many houses. Why that’s ok with such a segregated bunch is something Clem doesn’t understand.

If it were possible, she would try to get information out of the 20-odd people cramped around her. She would ask how long they have been stuck here, what they should expect come morning, and why no one is trying to fix things. Yet every attempt she has made to start a conversation has ended with about 2 seconds of eye contact before they turn their back on her.

It’s disconcerting for many reasons. If it was a unified force then surely they could try to fight and get back home; instead it’s like a collection of factions within a faction. And she and Aasim are nothing more than another splinter group from outside. Not worth knowing or accommodating beyond sharing a limited space.

And space is definitely a commodity they don’t like sharing. A few of the people returning from day work quickly zero in on some poor guy sitting too close to _their spot_ , and made their feelings very physically understood.

What’s worse is that the guy isn’t quiet; screaming bloody murder as he’s tossed around like a ragdoll. The guards outside do nothing. _No one does anything_.

If Aasim didn’t take the opportunity to latch onto her forearm the second everything started then she would probably have run headfirst into that fight.

He didn’t have to say it – she knows that there are only two options in a place like this. You lay low or you become too big to be messed with. They can’t pull off the second option, not when they are both younger than everyone else and also still battered from the journey here.

It sends her all the way back to apocalypse day one, knowing that shit has thoroughly hit the fan but not being able to do anything about it. Hearing Sandra, the monsters, the cars, the gunfire... It’s like she’s starting all over from the beginning, but with the knowledge of how those things don’t get any better. Only ever another day with the same shit.

Lee isn’t about to appear again, instead she’s been put in the care of a lady who is revelling in the chaos. Someone who adapted too well, losing the things they were originally fighting to find.

At least she isn’t completely alone this time, there’s someone else stuck in the tree house with her. Whether he wants to be or not, they’re together in this mess now.

 

\-----

 

The days pass both too quickly and too slowly. On working days she ends up breaking her back on laborious tasks, marvelling at how unsupervised that time is. They don’t need to keep constant watch – there’s no hiding from the guard towers, and the only way out is going through a manned gate. The most they have to do is perform headcounts for specific zones.

And the Delta pays back their recruits work simply; for a day’s work you get two small meals – which works out to be one and a half standards servings. So while not everyone has to work each day, if they want to eat _well_ than most do. Mooching also doesn’t go over very well. Taking a day off is fine, but any more and the people bringing in the meals lose their charitable spirit.

 It isn’t the boot camp that she expected. Though she suspects that most of the recruits can’t be trusted to have any sort of combat training, and every chore they do frees up the seasoned soldiers for fighting.

Then there’s the hierarchy of jobs available that makes it even more frustrating. Anyone can move supplies or tend to the farms, but people have to be chosen for the less taxing chores. They won’t let Clem anywhere near weapons. So there’s no kitchen time, no fixing things up in the armoury, and no walking the exterior wall as a lookout – just in case she manages to get hold of someone else’s gear.

The bulk of the compound seems to run on that system, leaving the busywork to the least trustworthy while shoving guns and luxuries into the arms of those who have _earned_ them. They rest, she works, and it gives her far too big of an incentive to look for exits.

Every spare moment she runs escape scenarios through her head.

They all end badly.

Going over the wall will leave them gutted on the metal slicers embedded in the concrete. Going under the wall is showy and stupid.

The gate is the only way passed the first obstacle. And the only time that would work is when someone is shirking their watch, which would probably only happen in the middle of the night. She could theoretically hide while everyone else returns to the pits, wait until it’s dark and watch for an opening.

Yet if by some miracle all of that goes according to plan, then they’d have to get out of sight the second they’re outside the walls. And that’s its own bag of trouble that is hard to deal with. The gate opens onto the well-lit pier, which would mean running right alongside the strip of land between the wall and the water, or chancing the river.

It would help if she could talk to Aasim about it all, but there’s no privacy in the pits, and she has to assume every ear is listening in for signs of runaways. The most she can do is ask if he’s noticed anything , then try to read between the lines of ‘yes’ and ‘no’.

All the while she’s watching the numbers in the pit fluctuate. She’s not sure what these people are doing to earn their place, she just knows that she doesn’t think it’s anything good.

An entire group of five simply vanishes after being put on wall cleanup duty – dealing with the walkers that sometimes catch themselves on the metal spines and can’t get free. She was holding out hope that maybe they got away, but she sees three of them patrolling outside the fence a few days later. Which was sickening at first, but then they vanished too, along with a few other familiar faces she’s seen around the compound.

It coincided with an increasing amount of distant gunfire and shouting from the Delta veterans. The odds are that they are gone, and sadly Clem can’t bring herself to be surprised or even troubled by that information. There’s only so much she can handle before it all goes numb.

The only bit of warm comfort she can find is that she hasn’t seen any of the other kids from Ericson’s walk through the gate. Sure, it’s difficult knowing that they are all separated, yet she’d rather they be anywhere other than with her now.

Even AJ... Well, that’s how she feels most of the time.

As such, each day seems to drag on with no progress, but a week passes in a flash.

Then another.

And another.

And then the cool breezes pick up the late autumn wind. The air itself bites at her skin, and even though she has lost track of the days she knows the winter is fast approaching. She has to get back to AJ before then...

She just doesn’t know how.

At least today seems energetic enough to distract her. When she sits in Aasim’s corner of the foundation she can better hear and see the _free_ Delta members rushing around. Something has them in a tizzy, and she assumes it has something to do with the fighting she keeps hearing.

Most of what she hears now is the standard complaints about working, supplies, and the state of the war they’re fighting. All pointless to her. That is until someone drops something perfect into her lap.

_“The fuckers collapsed the tower.”_

That can only mean that one of the guard towers is being unmanned and potentially also a sloped pile of rubble. They can work with that – finding a gap in onlookers and scaling down the wall using the broken pieces to shield themselves from the wall’s barbs. It may still be a long shot, but hell, she’d take a long shot over no shot any day.

Now they just need some way to be in the area to scout it out... and she might need some help with that. And quickly since a lot of the recruits are already walking out into the bigger compound.

“Paige?” Clem gets to her feet and rushes over to the woman who seems mildly offended that Clem is trying to talk to her. To be fair, she has stopped her right at the threshold to the outside.

“What?” Paige scowls down at Clem.

“How do I get assigned to wall patrol?”

Finally Paige gives Clem her full attention, her piercing green eyes scrutinising Clem to the point of discomfort. She remains silent for quite some time before she comes up with a response. “If you want wall duty you should talk to Marcus when he’s watching the gates. Tell him I asked to put you there.”

Paige doesn’t wait for any more conversation and leaves Clem within the pits. She has what she needs now anyway.

Marcus isn’t here today, but that’s fine. One or two more day is fine. That gives her time to figure this out. They need a way to stay out after dark, maybe something to descend the wall without coming into contact with it, and anything else that might help them make the long trek home.

“Aasim,” Clem calls out to her friend. “Come with me for farm duty.”

He gives her a quizzical look. They’ve been on work detail for the past five days, today is supposed to be their break. Clem does her best to implore with her eyes that this is something important. He seems to get the picture, nodding firmly as he walks over to join her. “Dirty work,” he utters quietly.

“Yeah.” They join the back of the queue for everyone leaving the pits. There are already three in the crops group and six with the animals. “We need to get all the plants before winter, right?”

Aasim pauses, slowly choosing his words. “Only if they’re ready to be picked.”

“Well, maybe they are. I need your help to check.”

They join the others, being escorted by a single armed soldier over to the back area of the park grounds. Once they pass the checkpoint it’s free game – as free as it gets for them, anyway. They have their five person headcount, and so long as five leave again at nightfall they have nothing to worry about.

Today that won’t be a problem. In the near future, that will be a different story.

As soon as they’re let loose, Clementine heads straight for the centre of the field with Aasim matching pace behind her. She does a quick rotation, eyes desperately searching for eavesdroppers. Aside from the other recruits, they have the two people at the checkpoint and three in lookout towers on the exterior wall. The middle of the field is the furthest they can get from onlookers. 

“So, what am I looking at?” Aasim asks.

Clem crouches into the rows of vegetables, running her hand through the leaves as if she is actually interested in checking the plants. “One of the towers has collapsed. I don’t know which one, but if we can get there... maybe it will lead somewhere.” It’s a huge risk to vocalise any of this, yet she can’t risk letting what may be their one and only opportunity slip away because she couldn’t communicate anything.

She watches as Aasim does his own scan of the environment, eyes focusing on the expanse of the exterior wall. They can’t see it all from here, but the biggest blind spots are the pier-side of the park, and the area on the far side of the residential zone. They don’t really have an excuse to be seen in either location. He shakes his head before kneeling down beside her. “Ok, so let’s say there is a broken tower. Then what?”

“We need to be on wall duty, then there won’t be any checkpoints to sneak past. And we need somewhere to watch and wait until it’s clear to go over the wall. Maybe even until after dark.” She turns to him, he’s hanging on to every word. Unfortunately, she can see his brows drop as she stops talking. She doesn’t think she has enough to make the plan as stable as he’d probably like.

 “Ok, well... shit.” Aasim puts his face in his hands for a moment. “So the plan is to wing it?”

“I want to get back home, and I don’t think there’s going to be a better opportunity than this for a long time. Unless you can come up with anything better.”

He remains silent, dragging his hands down his face. “Fuck... over the wall it is.”


End file.
